Part 2

Soon the skates were taken off. "We must not stay too long the first time," said father. "You may come again to-morrow. You may skate every day until the snow comes."

"Oh, may we, father, may we?" cried Peter and Polly, jumping up and down. "And when the snow comes, we can sweep it off the ice."

"Maybe I shall not wish for any snow now," said Peter. "Maybe I like skating better."

"You will get the snow just the same, my son," said father. "So you may as well wish for it. It is sure to come."

"Now, good-by. We have all had a good time. Take my skates home with you and dry them when you dry yours. Then they will not rust. We will bring mother the next time we come."

THE FIRST SNOWSTORM

One morning mother called to Peter, "Wake up, Peter! Look out of your window. Winter has come."

Peter had been dreaming about a big snow man who chased him. He jumped out of bed and said, "You didn't get me that time, old snow man. I woke up too soon."

He ran to the window. The ground was white. The trees were white. The air was full of the white butterflies that Peter likes so well.

"Oh! Oh!" he shouted. "I must go out to play! I must go out to play!"

"Not until you are dressed, Peter," said mother. "Then you must have breakfast. After that you may go out."

At breakfast father said, "It has snowed a foot since dark yesterday. How many inches is that, Polly?"

"It is twelve inches, father. Do you think this snow has come to stay? Or will it melt away?"

"I think that it will stay, Polly. It is time for sleighing."

Peter and Polly put on their coats and caps, their leggings, overshoes, and mittens. Then they were ready to go out.

At first Peter ran about in the yard. He kicked up the snow as he ran. It flew all over him.

"Polly, Polly!" he called. "I am a snow man now. I shall chase you as the one in my dream chased me."

He ran after her. Just as he caught her, she slipped. Down they both went. They were covered from head to foot with snow.

"Now we are both snow men," said Polly. "Let's go and shake the little trees."

These were two fir trees. They were at the side of the house. Polly took hold of the end of a low branch. Peter stood under the tree, while Polly shook it. Down came a shower of snow.

Then Polly stood under the other, while Peter shook that. Down came another shower of snow. Some of this went into Polly's neck. But Polly did not care.

"Now we will show grandmother how white we are," she said.

Grandmother heard them coming. She went out on the piazza.

She said, "I see two snow men. I cannot ask them in. Snow men would melt near the fire. Then they would be nothing but water."

"Oh, yes, grandmother, they would be Peter and Polly," said Peter.

"Why, Peter! Why, Polly! Is this really you? I have no spectacles on, this morning. Where are your sleds?"

"In the barn, in the barn!" shouted Peter. "We could not wait for them."

"See the posts of your fence, grandmother," said Polly. "They all have on tall white caps."

"So they have, Polly. And how clean the snow caps are. How clean the snow makes everything. We are all glad to have it, aren't we?"

"I am, I am!" shouted Peter. "Winter has come, winter has come! Good-by, grandmother. I must go and play."

"Good-by," called grandmother. "Come down to dinner, if mother will let you. We will have sugar on snow."

"She will let us," called Peter. "I know she will. And I will get the pan of snow for the sugar."

THE STAR SNOWFLAKE

All that day Peter and Polly played in the snow. All day Peter's white butterflies fell. Down they came out of the air, softly and silently.

Peter liked to stand and look up into the sky. He liked to feel the soft flakes light upon his face. He liked to see them on his coat sleeve.

Polly said, "Aren't the flakes pretty, Peter? They are little stars. The perfect ones have six points. The Story Lady told me a story about a star snowflake. I will tell it to you.

"Once a little water fairy lived in our brook, back of grandmother's house. One day she was very, very naughty. She did not wish to go up into the air. She did not wish to be part of a cloud. She wished to stay in the brook.

"Her father said, 'You must go. And I shall have you punished for being so naughty. I shall have Jack Frost change you into a snowflake.'

"Jack Frost came one day to change the cloud into snowflakes. He saw how sorry the water fairy was because she had been so naughty.

"So he said, 'You know that I have to make all snowflakes like stars. Some of them are very pretty. I will change you into the prettiest star snowflake that I know.'

"'And when you melt,' said Jack Frost, 'you will be a water fairy again. You will always be good then, won't you?'

"So he changed her into a beautiful star snowflake. I have seen her picture. The Story Lady showed it to me."

"Let's find her," said Peter. "Then let's show her to the Story Lady. That will be better than the picture."

So the children looked and looked. They found many stars. But Polly was not sure that any one of them was the right one.

At last Peter found the most beautiful star of all. "This is the water fairy, this is the water fairy!" he cried.

And Polly said, "It does look like the picture. So let's go and show it to the Story Lady."

Down they went to her house and into the kitchen. There was the Story Lady, washing dishes.

"O Story Lady," said Peter. "I have the water fairy on my arm! She is changed into a star. See her!"

But when the Story Lady looked, there was no star snowflake.

"She has gone," said Peter. "That is too bad." And he looked ready to cry.

"Why, yes, Peter," said the Story Lady. "She has gone. But don't you think that she is happy to be just a water fairy again? She likes that better, you know. You must be glad that you found her and helped her melt."

"I am glad," said Peter. "But it was only a 'Once upon a time' story, wasn't it?"

"Of course it was, Peter. But don't you know that all snowflakes are water fairies? Now run along and play with those that are left."

HOW PETER HELPED GRANDMOTHER

Grandmother was getting ready for Thanksgiving. Peter and Polly and father and mother were going to her house on that day.

So grandmother was making mince pies. She was making other things, too. One was fruit cake.

Peter and Polly were down at grandmother's, helping. At least, Polly was helping and Peter was hindering.

He seemed bound to stand just where grandmother wished to walk. He spilled a cup of milk on the table. After he had wiped it up, he upset some flour.

But he did not mean to hinder.

Polly watched her grandmother make the pies. She watched her roll the pie crust thin and trim it to the size of the plate.

She said, "If I had some dough, I am sure I could do that."

Her grandmother gave her some and a little plate. Polly rubbed the plate with melted butter. Then she rolled out the dough and put it on the plate.

"That is very good, Polly. Now we will fill our pies. Here is the mincemeat."

Polly tried to make her little pie look like grandmother's large one.

"Next we must put on the covers," said grandmother. "Roll yours out like mine."

She had Polly stick a knife through her cover in four places. Ask your mother why she did this.

Then she helped Polly put on her cover, for that was quite hard to do. Last of all she showed her how to pinch together the edges.

"Now," said grandmother, "we will bake our pies. What shall you do with yours?"

"I should like to take it home to show mother and father. May I?"

"Why, to be sure. They ought to have a bite of your first pie. Please, Peter, carry this pail of sugar into the pantry for me. I do not need it any more."

The pies were baked brown. As soon as hers was cool enough, Polly carried it up the hill to mother.

"See, mother," she said, "I can cook now. Grandmother let me make a pie. It is for you and father."

"How good it looks, Polly! We will try it for dinner. You have done this well. I see that I must begin to teach you to cook.

"Bread comes first. The next time I sponge bread, you may try. Your first good loaf you may take to grandmother."

"Oh, may I, mother? I want to learn to cook. Then I can cook for you and father. I watched grandmother all the morning. I helped her, too."

"So did I help grandmother," said Peter.

"O Peter, what did you do to help?" asked Polly. "You spilled the milk and then you spilled the flour. That isn't helping much."

"I did help," said Peter. "I helped all the morning. I worked very hard."

"I am sure that you meant to, Peter," said mother. "But tell me what you did."

"Why," said Peter, "why, I carried away the pail of sugar."

Polly laughed, but mother said, "That was kind, Peter. And you know that you always help by being a good boy. So I really think that you are right."

THE SNOW MAN

"Let's make a snow man this morning. Will you, Peter? The snow is just right for big balls."

"Then we will," said Peter. "But let's get Tim to help us."

Tim is Peter's playmate. He lives on a farm. His house is farther up the hill. Look for it on the map in the front of this book.

Soon Tim was down at Peter's. His big dog Collie was with him. Wag-wag and Collie are friends. They often play together.

The three children began to roll snowballs. Polly's grew very large. The boys had to help her with it. They pushed it over and over. At last it was quite near the edge of the bank.

"One more push," said Polly. "Then it will be just right. People can see the man from the road."

But that push was too much. Over the edge of the bank the big ball rolled.

"Oh, stop, stop!" cried Peter. "Do not run away. We will make you into a good snow man."

But the ball did not stop. It rolled against Tim. It knocked him flat. Peter and Polly fell down the bank after it. At last it smashed itself against the fence.

"Never mind," said Polly. "We can make another. Do not let the next one knock you down, Tim."

"Old snowball ran over me," said Tim. "But I do not care. He smashed himself."

Another big ball was made. It was rolled into place. Then smaller ones were lifted on it. These were for the body.

At last the head was ready. Polly stood in a chair. She stuck the head on the body. She made eyes, a nose, and a mouth with small sticks.

She put an old hat on the head. She put a branch under the arm.

Then she said, "We will name you White Giant. You may take care of our house at night. In the daytime you may play with us. Will you, old Giant?"

Polly did not think that the snow man could talk. But just then she heard some one say, "Of course I will play with you, Polly."

"Oh, oh! Has he come alive?" cried Peter. "Can he chase me? I do not wish him to do that." And he ran behind Polly.

"I cannot chase you, Peter," the snow man seemed to say. "I cannot move at all in the daytime. But at night you should see me."

"I saw you the other night in a dream," said Peter. "I did not like you. You chased me."

"I will never do that again, Peter. So you must not be afraid of me."

Just then Tim cried out, "Look, look!" And there behind a tree was Peter's father.

Polly laughed. "I know now that the snow man did not talk," she said. "At first I thought he did. It was you, wasn't it, father?"

"Why do you think so, Polly? You didn't see me. Did it sound like me?"

"No, it did not, father," said Peter. "And I think it was the snow man. I am going to watch him to-night and see."

"Why don't you?" asked father. "I should like to know about it. You tell me when you find out. Where are your mittens, Tim? Aren't your hands cold?"

"I've lost them. And Peter has lost one of his red ones. We can't find them at all."

"Perhaps they are under the snow. The sun will help you find them by and by. Peter, run in and tell mother. She will get some mittens for you and Tim to wear.

"When you come back, bring the old broom. That is better than the branch for your snow man. If you watch to-night, you may see what he does with it."

PETER'S DREAM

At bedtime Peter said, "I want to sit up. I am going to watch the snow man."

"Why?" asked mother.

"I heard him speak," said Peter. "He said he would not chase me. He said I ought to see him at night. He can move then."

"Very well," said mother. "But you might get into your bed. You can watch him from your window."

"I did not think of that, mother. I will go now."

Soon Peter was in bed. By sitting up, he could see the snow man. His window was wide open. But Peter had on thick night clothes. He did not feel the cold.

The moon was bright. Peter thought of his friend, the Fairy Bird. He wished the Bird would come again and take him to the moon.

All at once he rubbed his eyes. Where was the snow man? He looked again. The snow man was gone!

"Oh, oh!" said Peter to himself. "I've lost him. That's too bad. Now I shall not see anything."

But just then the door opened softly. Peter saw something white coming into his room. It was the snow man!

Peter was so surprised that he nearly jumped out of bed. He was frightened, too. He called, "Oh, dear!"

"Sh, sh, sh!" said the snow man. "You'll wake every one in the house. I came up here to please you. I don't care to see any one else.

"It was hard work climbing the stairs. You children didn't make me very good legs; nor very good arms, either, I must say. I have no feet and no hands.

"My hat came off when I broke myself away from the snow. But, without hands, I couldn't put it back on my head.

"I do wish that you would make me better next time. You can, if you try. But I'm thankful you gave me eyes and a mouth, too. I like to see and I like to talk."

"Don't you like to eat?" asked Peter. "What do you eat? Oh, dear! I'm afraid you eat little boys like me."

The snow man began to shake. Bits of snow dropped on the floor.

"Why, Peter, I believe you are afraid of me. You needn't be. You'll laugh, too, when I tell you what I do eat. Sticks and twigs and leaves that I pick up when you are rolling me.

"Best of all I like mittens. I don't get very many. But I ate yours and Tim's this morning. They were good. I like red ones best. And I had only one red mitten."

Then Peter did laugh. "What queer things to eat," he said. "And how funny you look when you laugh. You shake, but you do not laugh with your mouth."

"Yes," said the snow man. "That's all because of Polly. You see, she made my mouth with a horrid straight stick. I can't bend it at all."

"You make me very cold," said Peter. "You are so white. I want my mother to come and tuck me up."

"I will try," the snow man said. And, with his snowy arms, he tried to pull up the bedclothes. One arm slipped and hit Peter's neck. Peter was so surprised that he screamed.

In just a minute mother ran in. "What is it, dear?" she asked.

Peter could only say, "The snow man, the snow man! He has been up here!"

"He's out in the yard, dear. I can see him. And he has lost his hat. The wind must have blown it off. It has been raining hard. The rain has come in at the window. It is wet on the floor."

"He didn't have his hat up here," said Peter. "He dropped it when he started. He couldn't put it on. And he made those spots on the floor. It was not the rain. Pieces of snow dropped off him when he laughed."

Mother only said, "I'll tuck you up again, Peter. We can see about it in the morning. Now good night."

In the morning the rain had stopped. The children went to look at the snow man. He had grown much smaller in the night. There was a crack near the bottom of his legs.

"He did walk, he did, I know he did!" cried Peter. "That's what made the crack. And, O Polly, look at this!"

Sticking out of the snow man's stomach was the end of a red mitten!

CUTTING THE CHRISTMAS TREE

It was nearly Christmas. Peter could hardly wait for the day to come.

He kept saying, "Mother, will it be Christmas to-morrow? Mother, will it be Christmas to-morrow?"

At last father said, "Do you want Christmas before I get the tree?"

"No," said Peter. "But will you ever get it?"

"I will to-day. You and Polly may go with me. We will choose the prettiest fir tree we can find. Put on your things, and we will start now."

"Oh, goody, goody!" cried Peter, jumping up and down. "Now I know that Christmas is almost here."

"It will be here to-morrow," said father. "Run and tell Polly."

They went through the field back of the house. They climbed over the stone-wall post office. Polly looked into some of the boxes for mail.

She said, "Father, one day Peter told me that he had a pony in his post-office box."

"It must have been a very large box, Polly. We do not have such large ones at the store. Which is it?"

"I don't care if I didn't have it in my box," said Peter. "I think I shall get it on the tree. It will be up in the tiptop."

"Then we must find a strong tree, my boy. Can you see one you like?"

"That one," said Peter.

Father laughed. "That is a strong tree. But it is too tall. We should have to cut a hole in the ceiling to stand it up. Find a smaller one."

"There is a good tree, father. See how pretty it is. It looks like our little firs at home."

"I believe that is just right for us, Polly. I will cut it down. Please hold my coat."

Father swung his ax. He gave three sharp blows. All at once there was a chatter overhead.

In the next tree a gray squirrel was running up a large branch. He was scolding with all his might. His tail was jerking. He looked very cross.

"Well, old fellow," said father, "did I disturb you? I am sorry. Go back to sleep. We will not take your tree."

"His is too bare, isn't it, father? The leaves have all gone. We must have a fir tree for ours. It has queer leaves. But they do not fall off in the winter."

"That is why we call such trees evergreens, Polly. They are always green. Pine trees are evergreens, too. Their needles are longer than fir needles."

"I think that is one of our squirrels," said Peter. "He took our nuts, Polly. I wonder where he put them."

"He thought they were his," said Polly. "He needed them."

Soon father had cut down the fir. He put it over his shoulder. The end dragged on the snow.

"Now we are ready for home," he said. "To-night mother and I will dress this tree. To-morrow you may see it."

"Have you really a dress for it?" asked Peter. "I hope it is red. Who made it?"

"O Peter, how silly you are! Father means dress it up with candy bags and popped corn and presents."

"I know now," said Peter. "Ponies and guns and things."

"See the snow sparkle, children. The sun makes it do that. Look at the blue sky. Doesn't the air feel good to you?"

"It makes me feel like running," said Polly.

"Then run along, chicks. You will get home first. Tell mother that the Christmas tree is really coming. You may pop the corn this afternoon."

THE GIVE-AWAY BOX

When Peter and Polly got home, they ran into the house.

"Mother, mother!" they shouted. "The Christmas tree is coming. Father has it."

"Why, mother," said Polly, "what makes the house smell so sweet? It smells just like the woods."

"It is the green wreaths, Polly. I have them in all the rooms. There is one on the front door, too. These wreaths smell better than the ones that we buy. You may help me make the rest of them. We need more."

So the children went into the kitchen. On a table were pieces of evergreen boughs.

They helped their mother twist the pieces into circles. On each circle she wound many small twigs. When done, the wreaths were firm and thick and green.

"How good it does smell, mother. I like Christmas smells. But see my hands."

"That is the pitch from the greens, Polly. Just rub on a little butter. It will take off the pitch. Then wash your hands in warm water. I will clean up the rest of the greens. When this is done, we will pop our corn."

That was always fun. Polly liked to shake the popper. She liked to see the white kernels of corn hop up and down. She liked the good smell, too.

Soon two large panfuls were popped. Then came another task. The corn must be strung. Polly and Peter both helped. But, of course, mother could string faster than they. She told them stories while they worked.

"When I was a little girl," said mother, "we did not have a Christmas tree. Instead, we hung up our stockings. We hung them near the fireplace. We thought Santa Claus could reach them better there.

"I was the smallest in our family. So my stocking was the smallest. My presents would never go into my stocking. This used to tease me.

"My dear grandmother found it out. One day she said to me, 'I am going to knit you a new red stocking. It is not to wear. It is for you to hang up.'

"And the very next Christmas, what do you think? She had knit me a stocking as long as I was tall! How pleased I was to hang it up!

"Now, children, the Give-away Box is ready. You may choose your things to give away."

On the floor in the dining room there was a large box. It was filled with games, dolls, bags of candy and popped corn, and many other things.

These were for Peter and Polly to give away. They would make other children happy. And that would make Peter and Polly happy, too.

Peter chose a jumping jack for Tim. Polly chose to give him a whistle.

"He cannot whistle with his mouth yet," she said. "Perhaps Collie will come for this whistle."

When Polly was out of the room, Peter chose a present for her. It was the prettiest doll that he had ever seen.

Polly chose a train of cars for Peter. But he did not know that.

"We can give this candlestick to Mrs. White," said Polly. "She gave us back our Jack-o'-lanterns. I think she would like it."

Mother said, "Why don't you give the hot water bag to grandmother? Her bag leaks."

"Oh, we will, we will!" cried both children.

"Farmer Brown is our friend," said Polly. "He showed us his sheep. Mrs. Brown is our friend, too. She gave us a party last summer. The lambs came to it. It was on her steps. Let us give them two wreaths."

"There is my teacher," said Peter. "I will give her these marbles."

Polly said, "Your teacher! You don't go to school, Peter."

"I did one day," said Peter. "I like her. She was good to me. She is my teacher. I don't care what you say."

"Never mind about that, chicks," said mother. "I'm afraid she hasn't a pocket for the marbles. Why not give her the box of handkerchiefs?"

Before long the Give-away Box was empty. The presents were tied up. Every friend in the village had been remembered.

Peter and Polly were tired. They were glad when it was bedtime.

As mother tucked her up, Polly said, "I like the Give-away Box. It is fun. It is as much fun as it is to get things. You gave it to us, mother. You give us everything."

"Father, too," said mother. "And it makes fathers and mothers happy to do that."

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Early Christmas morning Peter awoke. He heard a noise in mother's room. So he knew that he might get up.

He pushed open the door. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" he shouted.

"Merry Christmas," said mother, hugging him tightly.

"Merry Christmas," said father, tossing him up into the air. "Did you see Santa Claus last night?"

Just then Polly ran in. "Oh, oh, it is Christmas!" she cried. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! See what I found in my bed."

It was a box of animal crackers. They were all sheep.

"O father! You did it for a joke. You know I do not like mutton."

Peter ran to look in his room. He thought a joke might be there, too.

"See, see!" he shouted. "I have found a letter box. That is not a joke."

"Look inside," said father.

Peter looked. There he saw a very small pony. It was made of cloth. On its back it had a cloth monkey.

"A joke, a joke!" cried Polly. "Your pony came in your letter box after all."

There were to be no more presents until after breakfast. So the children dressed quickly.

It was hard for them to eat anything.

At last Polly said, "I cannot wait another second. I will eat my breakfast with my dinner. Here comes grandmother. Now may we open the door and see the tree?"