“Good morning, Peter Rabbit. You seem to have something on your mind,” said a voice from the middle of the bramble tangle.
Peter gave a little start of surprise. Then he hopped into the bramble tangle along one of the little paths he had cut there. “Good morning, Mrs. Grouse,” he replied. “I have got something on my mind. I have been following some strange tracks, and I don't know what to make of them.” He pointed at one of them as he spoke.
“Oh,” replied Mrs. Grouse in a tone of great surprise. “I made those with my snowshoes. I supposed you knew.”
“Snowshoes! What are snow-shoes?” asked Peter, looking more puzzled than ever.
Very proudly Mrs. Grouse held out one foot for Peter to look at. Instead of the slim smooth toes he often had admired Peter saw that the bottom of each was covered for its whole length with queer-looking, horny little points that prevented the foot from sinking way down in the snow as it would have done without them. This made it very easy for Mrs. Grouse to get about on the snow instead of having to wade through it.
“My!” exclaimed Peter. “How perfectly splendid! Where did you get them?”
“Oh,” replied Mrs. Grouse with pride in her voice, “they have been in the family a great many years. They were given to my great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather by Old Mother Nature.”
“Tell me about it. Do please tell me about it,” begged Peter, who had not had a story since Grandfather Frog went to sleep for the winter.
Mrs. Grouse fluffed out her feathers and settled herself comfortably. “There isn't much to tell,” she began, “but all the same our family always has been rather proud of the way we came by our snowshoes. It all happened a great while ago.”
“Way back in the time that Grandfather Frog tells about, when the world was young?” interrupted Peter.