and an orchard where all kinds of fruit trees grew, apple, peach,
pear, and many others. A cow lived down in the meadows of clover, and
old Bob, the horse, was sometimes turned out to pasture there. But
nicest of all, there was the wood yard. You must remember that every
winter, where these little girls lived, the snow fell, and lay so deep
on the roads that no one could bring in wood from the forest, and
without it all the people would have frozen in their cold homes.

So every September the gates were thrown wide open, and into the yard
load after load of wood was drawn and piled up under the shed. Then,
when it was too cold to play out on the hills, the little girls used
to have a fine time in the yard, piling up the wood, making beds,
tables, chairs, and stoves of the sticks that had once been the waving
branches and strong, sturdy trunks of trees.

Toward spring they often found a strange yellow powder on the ground
under the wood. At first they played with it, calling it flour, and
made pies and cakes out of it. But at last they began to wonder where
the flour came from, and after watching and studying a long time this
is what they found out.

But first I must tell you that all the time the three little girls
were happy and busy in this beautiful place, they were not the only
family there. There were the robins' children, whose mammas were
trying to make them good and happy too. There were the beetles'
children, the ants' children, and families of toads, butterflies, and
spiders. And while the three little girls were playing with the sticks
of wood, there lay, tucked snugly away inside of them, many families
of children, warm and safe in their wooden home.