"I declare, I think it's going to snow again," said Mr. Rabbit, looking out of the back door.
Mr. Rabbit was right. Father Storm's two small sons, Snow Flake and Snow Drop, were flying here and there. Soon their little comrades by the million were hurrying down from the gray sky, from which, only a few hours before, Mr. Merry Sun was smiling. Over the Sunny Meadow they came, along the Bubbling Brook, where Miss Pussy Willow stood looking very cold and uncomfortable.
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