Bright-eyed deer mice peeped at her from under old logs, the chickadees, nuthatches, and jays started an investigating committee to learn if anything interesting to them was occurring.

One gayly-dressed little sapsucker hammered a tree near by and scolded vigorously.
"Right you are!" said Mary.

"It's a pity you're not big enough to drive us from the woods, for into one kittle goes enough sap to last you a lifetime." The squirrels were sure it was an intrusion, and raced among the branches overhead, barking loud defiance.

At night the three rode home on the sled, with the syrup jugs beside them, and Mary's apron was filled with big green rolls of pungent woolly-dog moss.
Jimmy built the fires, Dannie fed the stock, and Mary cooked the supper.

When it was over, while the men warmed chilled feet and fingers by the fire, Mary poured some syrup into a kettle, and just as it "sugared off" she dipped streams of the amber sweetness into cups of water.