Betty.
O, Dicky dear, when are we going back?
It must be time to take the homeward track!
The snow’s too deep—the holly grows so high;
And I’m so tired—I almost want to cry!
Which is the path?
Dick. [Looking about doubtfully.]
I guess it’s this one—no,
It’s that—they all look puzzling, in the snow!
Betty. [Dismayed.]