Sometimes, I would take a big white chip and load it with pebbles or violets and send it down stream. The sly little brook would slip my boat over one of its tiny waterfalls just as quick as it could! If my little boat was loaded with pebbles, down would go my heavy cargo to the bottom! But if it were loaded with violets, then a fleet of fairy purple canoes would float on and on, and away out of sight.
A great green frog with big, staring eyes watched from the side of the brook. Now and then, he would say, “Ker-chug!” in a deep voice. I used to ask him in good faith, what “ker-chug!” meant. But he did not tell, and to this day I have not found out what “ker-chug” means.
[Illustration: “WILD STRAWBERRIES GREW RED AND SWEET DOWN IN THE TALL GRASS.”]
Another place where I played was out on the meadow-rocks. Right down in a level spot in the meadow were three great rocks. Each one of these rocks was as large as a dining-room table. Right through this little flat place ran the brook I have told you about, bubbling round our three great rocks.
0, what splendid playhouses those rocks were! We each owned one. The third was owned by that wooden doll, Mrs. Pippy. In order to get to either one of the houses you had to cross a little bridge that spanned a tiny river. Also there were dear little steps up the sides of the rocks which it was such a pleasure to go up and down.
On the top of the rocks, which were almost as flat as the top of a table, were little closely-clinging patches of moss that we called our rugs. There were queer-shaped hollows in the tops of these rocks. In one little moss-lined hollow I used to cradle my baby-doll. Another hollow was my kitchen sink. I used to fill up my sink with bits of broken dishes, turn on some water from the brook, and then such a scrubbing as my dishes got!
At the rocks, kneeling down on the planks that formed our bridges, we used to wash our dollies’ clothes. Then we would spread them on the grass to dry. Didn’t we use to keep our babies clean and sweet!
Afterwards, pinning our short skirts up about us, we would wash the floors of our little rock houses until they shone. When everything was spick-and-span, we would unpin our skirts, pull down our sleeves, rub our rosy cheeks with a mullein leaf to make them rosier, and with a big burdock leaf tied on with a couple of strings for a bonnet we would go calling on our lazy neighbor, Mrs. Pippy, and give her a serious “talking-to.”