"Why do you think so, Peter?"
"I have seen red leaves," said Peter.
"But, Peter, a few red leaves do not count. There are red leaves in the
summer. You must watch until you see many red, yellow, and brown
leaves."
"What makes the leaves red and yellow, mother? Is it magic?" asked
Peter. "Can you do it?"
"Perhaps it is a kind of magic, Peter. It is like the clouds turning
into snow. I cannot do that."
Then Peter watched for all the trees to turn. At last they were bright
with colors.
The maples were red and yellow; the oaks a deep red. The beeches were a
bright yellow.
Even the elm trees in front of the house were yellow. Now Polly liked
more than ever to swing. The swing took her way up among the yellow
leaves.
Then, one day, the leaves began to fall. Down they came, a few at a
time. The next day more fell, and the next and the next.
Polly said, "They are prettier than the snowflakes. The snow is white.
These have lovely colors. See them flying through the air."
At last most of the trees were bare. The leaves lay on the ground.
Then Peter said, "Oh, the poor trees! They haven't any clothes on. I am
so sorry."
Polly said, "The leaves are not clothes. They are children. Now they
have gone to bed. The snow is their blanket. When it comes, it will keep
them warm. If we leave them alone, they will sleep all winter. I learned
it in a poem."
"They cannot go to sleep yet," said Peter. "I shall not let them. I
shall wake them up."
"How will you do that?" asked Polly.
"I shall run in them. That will keep them awake. I shall do it now. Come
on! See if you can make as much noise as I can."
After a while the children raked the leaves into large heaps. Then they
jumped in the heaps. This scattered the leaves. But the children did not
care. They raked them up again.
Once Peter jumped where the leaves were not very deep. He came to the
ground with a bang. He was surprised. But he was not much hurt.