It was time at two o'clock for the loaves of bread to go into the oven
to bake in the fire that glowed and burned so early in the morning.
_Three_ struck the clock in the tower of the town hall.
The dairyman poured rich milk into his shining bottles and packed
them into the milkman's wagon. It was still dark, although the stars
were not so bright and the sky was just beginning to be streaked with
pink. It was very cold, but the dairyman knew that it was time at
three o'clock to measure the milk that must go to town for the
children to drink as they ate the bread that the baker had mixed and
baked.
_Four_ struck the clock in the old town hall. Now the sky was light
enough for the milkman's team to start out, driving over the hard,
frosty roads. No other people were out, but the milkman knew that he
must start to town at four o'clock and begin delivering his milk that
the dairyman had measured so early in the morning. The children must
have it to drink as they ate the bread that the baker had mixed at
two, and baked in the fire that had been lighted at one o'clock.
_Five_ struck the clock in the town hall. A wintry wind blew out of
the east. It bit the nose and ears of the baker's boy who started out
with a basket of fresh loaves of bread on his arm for delivering at
the kitchen doors.
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