the next morning. And here it is January, and it hasn't snowed since."

"'Sides the sled is busted," agreed Twaddles mournfully, quite willing
to be melancholy if some one would show him the way. "Even if it did
snow, we couldn't have any fun without a sled."

"I guess we can mend it, maybe," interposed Meg cheerfully. "I'm going
out and get some bread and peanut butter. Who wants some?"

They all did, it seemed, even Dot and Twaddles, who were too young to
go to school, but who managed to have famous appetites as regularly as
the older children. Mother Blossom allowed them to have what Norah
called a "snack" every afternoon after school, and Meg was always
careful to see that they ate only the things permitted and that no one
dipped into the cake box.

"Look how white!" cried Dot, finishing her bread and butter first, and
kneeling on a kitchen chair to see out of the window. "The ground is
all covered already and you can see feetsteps."

"Footsteps," corrected Bobby, taking a last large bite of his lunch.

"Shoesteps," insisted Meg, closing the pantry door and putting away the
bread.

"That isn't a shoestep," argued Bobby, pointing to a particularly clear
and distinct print in the snow just outside the window.

"'Tis, too," scolded Meg. "That's where Sam went out to the garage."