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FOREWORD

These stories are founded on memories of my childhood on the farm. They first took definite form in response to the requests of my own little boys: "Tell me about when you were little, Mama." Some of them were demanded over and over again; but it remained for Bobby, the youngest, to insist that they be "put into a book."

Many a time, after listening to one of them, he would say: "I wish you would write your stories, Mama, so that other children could hear them."

Always I replied: "I will try sometime."

But never did the time come when there were not other things to do.

Finally, one night, when I had finished telling, "How Rover Got the Cows out of the Corn," he said: "Mama, you always say you will write your stories, but you never do. Truly, I'm afraid the other children will never know them."

I looked up. There were tears in Bobby's eyes.

Did it mean so much to him? Would other children like the stories?

"Bobby," I said, "truly, I will try to write them. After Christmas I will begin."

So after the holidays were over and the older boys had gone back to college, the writing was commenced.

"Will they do?" said I to Bobby when he had heard the last story read. "Do you think a publisher will like them?"

"The children will like them," he replied.

So that is how Prince and Rover happened to be written.

H. F. O.

I

At Cloverfield Farm there were four horses—Dobbin and Bird, Dan and Daisy. Dan was getting old so he could not go fast or work hard any more.

"We need another horse," said Farmer Hill one morning. "Mr. Ross has some for sale. I am going over to look at them to-day and perhaps I will buy one."

"I hope," said John, "that you will get one that can go fast—faster than Daisy."

"I hope," said Sue, "that you will get a fine-looking horse."

"And I hope," said mother, "that you will get a gentle horse, one that will be safe for me to drive."

"I will try to please you all," said father, "but first of all we must have a strong, willing horse—one that will do his share of the farm work."

Father was gone all day, for Farmer Ross lived five miles away.

Toward supper-time Sue looked out of the window and exclaimed: "Oh, there's father with the new horse."

Just then Bobby came running in and shouted: "Father's coming with the new horse."

All three looked toward the road—mother and John and Sue.

Down the road was father in the buggy, driving Daisy while he led the new horse behind the buggy with a halter.

All the family went out to see the new horse when Farmer Hill reached the back yard.

"He is not as handsome as I had hoped," said Sue, "but he has a kind face."

"Can he go fast?" asked John.

"He is not a race-horse," said father, "but he has long, slim legs and can go over the ground pretty fast—quite fast enough for us."

"Is he gentle, so that I can drive him?" asked