She lifted
the butter from the churn with the paddle and began to work it to get
the milk out. She had watched Grandma do this many times, and it had
looked very easy; but she found it quite another thing, when she came
to doing it herself.
After she had worked for some time, she had a solid roll of butter. She
salted it, and worked it some more; and then she called Grandma to come
and see it.
"I could not have made better butter myself!" said Grandma. So Joyce had
something new to write about, in her next letter to Mother.
After dinner the children went to the orchard to play. They found an ant
hill; and it was very interesting to watch the ants as they worked.
One ant was carrying a bread crumb several times larger than herself,
and the children were watching eagerly. The old turkey gobbler came
strutting toward them; but they did not notice. Joyce was bending over,
watching the industrious little ant, when suddenly the gobbler perched
upon her back and began to beat her with his wings.
"Grandma!" screamed Joyce.
It was a comical sight that Grandma saw when she came to the door. There
was Joyce, running toward the house, with the gobbler after her, and Don
coming behind.
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