The ground was all covered with a white mantle, but he didn't know it was snow. This was the first snow he had ever seen. It made everything look strange, and the ground was as smooth as Mrs. Rabbit's best linen tablecloth.

Pretty soon he hopped down to the Bubbling Brook, but it, too, had changed. It was smooth, like glass. So the little rabbit leaned over the bank to listen, but just then Billy Breeze made a dreadful racket and whirled the snow about in great clouds. But the little rabbit didn't care; he just kept on listening, and by and by he heard the Bubbling Brook singing softly:

"Dear me," said the little rabbit to himself, "I never would know that this was the Old Duck Pond if it weren't for the Old Mill yonder. No wonder Granddaddy Bullfrog hid himself deep down in the mud before all this happened."

Yes, the whole earth seemed quiet and still. The mill wheel moved no more; great icicles hung from the paddles and long snowdrifts lay piled against the dam.

I don't know how long the little rabbit would have stood there wondering at the sudden change if something hadn't happened. Whiz! went a snowball past his ear. The Farmer's Boy leaned over and picked up some more snow. But the little rabbit didn't wait to see what sort of a snowball he would make this time. No, siree. He hopped back to the dear Old Bramble Patch as fast as he could.