"Little Ben's turn," called Mother. Little Ben had to stand on a box
to churn, and his cheeks were as red as roses as he worked away.
"Don't you want us to help you?" asked the other children.
"No, indeed," said little Ben; "I guess I can churn to get my
Grandmother some birthday butter," and he churned with a will, till
the dasher seemed to say to him:
Bum, bum,
Butter's come.
Mother looked in the churn and, sure enough, the flakes of golden
butter were floating on the milk.
"Hurrah!" cried little Ben. "Hurrah!" cried Cousin Pen and Brother
Fred, and they hurried into the kitchen to watch Mother as she
gathered the butter, and worked it, and salted it, and patted it into
a very fine roll. When she had done that she printed a star on top of
the roll, and the butter was ready to take to Grandmother.
"You must make Grandmother guess what it is," said Mother as she put
the butter into a nice little basket and covered it with a white
napkin.
"All right," said the children; so when they got to Grandmother's
house they called, "Grandmother, Grandmother, guess what we have
brought you for a birthday present."
"It is yellow as gold," said Brother Fred.
"It's sweet as clover," said Cousin Pen.
"We churned it ourselves," said little Ben; and Grandmother guessed
what it was with her very first guess.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289