Free Little House In The Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder Page B

forehead on his sleeve.
    Suddenly Grandma stopped laughing. She turned and ran as fast as she could into the kitchen. The fiddle had stopped playing. All the women were talking at once and all the men teasing George, but everybody was still for a minute, when Grandma looked like that.
    Then she came to the door between the kitchen and the big room, and said:
    “The syrup is waxing. Come and help yourselves.”
    Then everybody began to talk and laugh again. They all hurried to the kitchen for plates, and outdoors to fill the plates with snow. The kitchen door was open and the cold air came in.
    Outdoors the stars were frosty in the sky and the air nipped Laura's cheeks and nose.
    Her breath was like smoke.
    She and the other Laura, and all the other children, scooped up clean snow with their plates. Then they went back into the crowded kitchen.
    Grandma stood by the brass kettle and with the big wooden spoon she poured hot syrup on each plate of snow. It cooled into soft candy, and as fast as it cooled they ate it.
    They could eat all they wanted, for maple sugar never hurt anybody. There was plenty of syrup in the kettle, and plenty of snow outdoors. As soon as they ate one plateful, they filled their plates with snow again, and Grandma poured more syrup on it.
    When they had eaten the soft maple candy until they could eat no more of it, then they helped themselves from the long table loaded with pumpkin pies and dried berry pies and cookies and cakes. There was salt-rising bread, too, and cold boiled pork, and pickles.
    Oo, how sour the pickles were!
    They all ate till they could hold no more, and then they began to dance again. But Grandma watched the syrup in the kettle.
    Many times she took a little of it out into a saucer, and stirred it round and round. Then she shook her head and poured the syrup back into the kettle.
    The other room was loud and merry with the music of the fiddle and the noise of the dancing.
    At last, as Grandma stirred, the syrup in the saucer turned into little grains like sand, and Grandma called:
    “Quick, girls! It's graining!”
    Aunt Ruby and Aunt Docia and Ma left the dance and came running. They set out pans, big pans and little pans, and as fast as Grandma filled them with the syrup they set out more. They set the filled ones away, to cool into maple sugar.
    Then Grandma said:
    “Now bring the patty-pans for the children.”
    There was a patty-pan, or at least a broken cup or a saucer, for every little girl and boy.
    They all watched anxiously while Grandma ladled out the syrup. Perhaps there would not be enough. Then somebody would have to be unselfish and polite.
    There was just enough syrup to go round.
    The last scrapings of the brass kettle exactly filled the very last patty-pan. Nobody was left out.
    The fiddling and the dancing went on and on. Laura and the other Laura stood around and watched the dancers. Then they sat down on the floor in a corner, and watched. The dancing was so pretty and the music so gay that Laura knew she could never get tired of it.
    All the beautiful skirts went swirling by, and the boots went stamping, and the fiddle kept on singing gaily.
    Then Laura woke up, and she was lying across the foot of Grandma's bed. It was morning. Ma and Grandma and Baby Carrie were in the bed. Pa and Grandpa were sleeping rolled up in blankets on the floor by the fireplace.
    Mary was nowhere in sight; she was sleeping with Aunt Docia and Aunt Ruby in their bed.
    Soon everybody was getting up. There were pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast, and then Pa brought the horses and sled to the door.
    He helped Ma and Carrie in, while Grandpa picked up Mary and Uncle George picked up Laura and they tossed them over the edge of the sled into the straw. Pa tucked in the robes around them, and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle George stood calling,
    “Good-by! Good-by!” as they rode away into the Big Woods, going home.
    The sun was warm, and the trotting horses threw up bits of muddy