they churn the cream of sour milk. And when the butter is all taken out in a lump, some sour milk is left, and they call that buttermilk. Would you like to taste it, Sue?"
Sue, who had drunk the last of her glass of sweet milk, nodded her curly head. But when Daddy Brown put his glass to her lips, and just let her sip the buttermilk he had been drinking, Sue made such a funny face that Bunny laughed aloud.
"Oh—oh! It—it's sour—like lemons!" cried Sue.
"Yes, it is sour!" said Mr. Brown. "But that is why I like it."
"I like molasses cookies better," said Sue, as she took a bite from one to cleanse away the sour taste in her mouth. "You can make just as good cookies as my mother or my Aunt Lu can," said Sue to Mrs. Trimble.
"Can I? I'm glad to hear that," said the farmer's wife, with a smile. "Have some to put in your pockets."
"Oh, I'm afraid you've given them too many already," objected Mr. Brown.
"Molasses cookies won't hurt children; nor
