The Willful Little Breeze
Old Mother West Wind was tired—tired and just a wee bit cross—cross because she was tired. She had had a very busy day.
Ever since early morning she had been puffing out the white sails of the ships on the big ocean that they might go faster; she had kept all the big and little wind mills whirling and whirling to pump water for thirsty folks and grind corn for hungry folks; she had blown away all the smoke from tall chimneys and engines and steamboats.
Ever since early morning she had been puffing out the white sails of the ships on the big ocean that they might go faster; she had kept all the big and little wind mills whirling and whirling to pump water for thirsty folks and grind corn for hungry folks; she had blown away all the smoke from tall chimneys and engines and steamboats.
