all the children.

"Good," replied the Lion. "After you have all eaten as many apples and
blackberries as you want, the battle of the new-mown hay will start. I
shall be the umpire. If Ridgwell and Christine can throw enough hay
from their big cart to bury all the children around them, they will
have won. If the other children can throw up enough hay to completely
smother the cart, Ridgwell and Christine will have lost. Now start,"
laughed the Lion.

"Look here, Chris, we must get to work, so here goes."

Whereupon Ridgwell seized a big armful of loose hay and awaited the
attack.

"We have the advantage of height," observed Christine, as she hastily
gathered as much hay as she could hold, "and you know, Ridgie, it is
much easier for us to throw down than it is for them to throw up."

"How about numbers?" objected Ridgwell; "why, it's two against
hundreds, Chris."

Then the battle commenced. That engagement was a memorable one amidst
the scented hay. Not infrequently it happened that only a laughing
eye, or the tip of a small nose was anywhere visible to show who might
be the victor. Nobody will ever be quite sure who won, and it is
doubtful if the point was ever decided.

Ridgwell, feeling very smothered up, was remarking to Christine in
muffled tones that he thought they must have lost, when the voice of
Lal announced "Winter."

"Don't you feel buried, Chris?"

"Yes," came the unexpected reply, "I am. I'm simply buried in furs and
snow!"

"Furs and snow?" repeated Ridgwell incredulously. "What on earth do
you mean, Chris? Oh, good gracious, Chris, I've got an extraordinary
feeling I'm falling over a sort of precipice."

"So we are," rejoined Christine philosophically. "Don't you see,
Ridgie, that Lal has changed everything again. We are on a toboggan
sleigh, and just starting down no end of a steep hill."

Ridgwell rubbed the finely powdered snow out of his eyes.

An entrancing winter scene lay below them. Giant blue-green pine-trees
were dotted about over the glistening snow which flashed with a million
diamond sparkles. All the children were clad in beautiful furs.

Some of them were sliding and skating, others snowballing and tumbling
in the snow.

"Hang on, Ridgwell and Christine," shouted the Lion, "your toboggan has
started at a pretty good pace. Hold tight."

Ridgwell and Christine shut their eyes, and as neither of them had any
breath during that wild descent, they could onl