they had come with us to Grandpa's, they would not have been so lonesome,
would they, Joyce?"

"I should say not!" answered Joyce. "The days go by too fast for that;
and besides, something is always happening. If it's nothing else, the
old turkey gobbler chases me around the tree." Don and Grandma laughed
heartily and Joyce joined in.

Grandma had promised to make some cookies this morning; so with Joyce
on one side of her and Don on the other, she mixed up the dough and
rolled it out on the large board. Then she got some cutters from the
pantry, and cut out the cookies in all sorts of shapes. There were
different kinds of animals: a bird for Joyce, and a queer little man for
Don. His eyes, nose, and mouth were made out of raisins; also the buttons
on his vest. Then she put the cookies in the oven to bake.

When they were done and Grandma took them out, Joyce's bird stuck to the
pan and its tail came off. And Don's man had grown so fat that he had
burst one of the buttons off his vest.

A long time ago, when the children's mother had been Grandma's little
girl, she had lived on this very farm. In those far-off days she had
planted a lilac bush and a cluster of prickly pear. Grandpa did not like
the prickly pear, but he had let it grow all these years because his
little girl had planted it.

"Isn't the grass nice and soft here?" said Don. "It feels just like a
velvet carpet. Watch me turn somersaults on it."

With that, he began to turn somersaults, going in the direction of the