Alice followed her father into the nursery. “I’m surely glad I have my own room,” she said. “There’s just no peace or privacy in this nursery any more.” “It’s time you were in bed too, Alice,” said her stepmother. “You were up before dawn this morning.” “I want to hear the story,” Alice was plaintive. “I promise to go to bed right after. After all I won’t be with Father very much longer.” “Let her stay, I’ll hustle her to bed right after,” said Roosevelt. Ted sat up, regarded the book his father was opening. “I vote for Sir Lancelot,” he announced firmly. “I vote for dragons,” said Kermit. “I like stories with dragons with fire coming out their noses.” “Are there any dragons in Dakota, Father?” Ethel wanted to know. “Where you shot all the animals? Those up on the wall?” “Of course not!” Alice was scornful. “Dragons are a fairy tale like gnomes and giants.” “Goliath wasn’t a fairy tale,” declared Ted. “He is in the Bible and the Bible is the Word of God.” “Goliath was a tall, strong man,” said his father. “We still see and hear of very tall, strong men who in that day when most men were short would have been called giants. I knew a cowhand in the West who was seven feet tall without his boots. When he rode an average size cow pony his feet almost touched the ground, he could step over a yearling calf or a fence as easily as you can step over a threshold.” “I can jump over a fence,” bragged Kermit, “if I can climb up a little way.” “Ponies can jump over without climbing,” said Ted, “but they have very strong muscles in their back legs. They can kick hard too. Grant kicked a pig once and made him roll over and squeal loud. He tried to eat my straw hat once too.” “You were crawling around under his front legs. He saw the hat and thought it was good to eat,” Alice defended her pet pony. “That was the summer Father found the big hollow tree and he let us down inside it on a rope. You wouldn’t remember that, Ethel, you were just a baby.” “She was three. Father let her down too,” Alice recalled, “and she was scared to death and screamed.” “It was dark down there,” said their father. “We will now end all reminiscing and read the book. But first, Alice, toss a little light wood on that fire.” “I like open fires better than radiators,” Alice said. “On radiators you can’t toast marshmallows. And if you put your feet on one with rubbers on they smell awful.”