dropped them. "Be sure you don't follow me," he said, nodding
pleasantly and winking at the children. Then he stepped to the door
without so much as a look at the Gentleman Goose who called out
angrily:

"Stop, stop! Catch 'em, Squealer--at 'em, Squawker--hold 'em, boys!"

It was too late. The boys were too much afraid of the Hare to do more
than flutter and squawk a little, and as the Gentleman Goose did not
seem inclined to make an attack single-handed, the Hare, with the
children behind him, got to the door in safety. Peter, however, had
to be dragged along by Ann and Rudolf, for the Lady Goose had just
removed the great pot from the stove in time to prevent its contents
from boiling over, and the little boy was sniffing hungrily at the
steam. Now she came after the children carrying a large spoonful of
the bubbling stuff. "All done, all done," she cried. "Don't go without
a taste, dears."

"What's done?" asked Peter, eagerly turning back to her.

"Worms, dear; red ones and brown ones," answered the Lady
Goose,--"boiled in vinegar, you know--just like mother used to
make--with a wee bit of a grasshopper here and there for flavoring.
Mother had the recipe handed down in her family--her side--you know,
from my great-great-grandmother's half-sister who was a De l'Oie but
married a Mr. Gans and was potted in the year--"

They got Peter through the door by main force, Ann and Rudolf pushing
behind and the Hare pulling in front. Even then, I am ashamed to say,
Peter kept calling out that he would like "just a taste", and he