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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Now I can stay, can't I? Wasn't it a good story?" cried Rob, in high feather at his superb success. "You can stay till you have eaten these twelve pop-corns," said his mother, expecting to see them vanish at one mouthful. But Rob was a shrewd little man, and got the better of her by eating them one by one very slowly, and enjoying every minute with all his might.
"I can wait;" but the boy's eyes shone with eagerness, and he could not resist firing two or three pop-corns at it to see whether it was hard or soft.
The tree was soon stripped, and pop-corns strewed the floor as the children stood about picking them off the red threads when candy gave out, with an occasional cranberry by way of relish. Boo insisted on trying the new sled at once, and enlivened the trip by the squeaking of the spotted dog, the toot of a tin trumpet, and shouts of joy at the splendor of the turn-out.
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