by Judy Delton
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 1988 by Judy Delton. Illustrations copyright © 1988 by Alan Tiegreen.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Originally published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., in 1988.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Delton, Judy.
Peanut-butter pilgrims / by Judy Delton; illustrated by Alan Tiegreen.
p. cm. — (Pee Wee Scouts) (Stepping stone book)
SUMMARY: As Thanksgiving approaches, the Pee Wee Scouts visit a turkey farm and prepare to put on a holiday play at the town hall.
eISBN: 978-0-307-77891-8
[1. Thanksgiving Day—Fiction. 2. Scouts and scouting—Fiction.
3. Turkeys—Fiction. 4. Theater—Fiction.]
I. Tiegreen, Alan, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.P388Pb 2007 [Fic]—dc22 2007007856
v3.1
For Beverly Vavoulis,
friend and scribe
—J.D.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1 In-and-Out Baskets
2 Turkey Talk
3 Indian or Pilgrim?
4 A Birdhouse for Tiger
5 Back to the Farm
6 Molly Saves the Day
In-and-Out
Baskets
“My basket is too skinny,” cried Molly Duff. “I’ll only be able to get one can of vegetables in it!”
“That is because you are weaving it too tightly,” said Mrs. Peters kindly. Mrs. Peters was the Pee Wee Scout leader.
The Pee Wee Scouts were busy weaving baskets. They would get a basket-weaving badge when they finished. Then they would fill the baskets with food for poor families on Thanksgiving.
“Watch me again,” said Mrs. Peters.
In and out.
In and out.
Little strips of wood.
Between the little sticks that stood up in the basket.
“If you pull too hard, the basket will be small. Weave loosely between the sticks. We have to get lots of good food in the baskets for Thanksgiving dinners.”
“Look at mine, Mrs. Peters!” called Rachel Myers. Rachel waved her basket over her head.
Mrs. Peters took Rachel’s basket. She held it up for the Scout troop to see.
“Mine is big,” said Rachel proudly. “I can get lots of food in mine.”
“It is a little too big, Rachel,” Mrs. Peters said. “You have woven it so loosely that some of the food may fall through the sides.”
Rachel looked as if she would cry. She didn’t like it when something was wrong.
“Now, here, you see Roger’s basket? His isn’t too loose and it isn’t too tight. It is just right to hold food for a Thanksgiving dinner.” Mrs. Peters held up Roger White’s basket.
“A turkey won’t fit in,” said Rachel, still hurt about her too-loose basket. “And you need a turkey for Thanksgiving.”
“We won’t put the turkeys in the baskets,” said Mrs. Peters. “The turkeys will come from Mrs. Atkins’s turkey farm. They have to be kept cold.”
Molly looked at Roger White’s basket. It was all finished. It was just right. It started small at the bottom, and got bigger toward the top. It would hold lots of food.
Molly sighed and began again.
In and out.
In and out she wove.
“Looser, looser,” she whispered to herself. Rachel was trying to squeeze hers together so she wouldn’t have to weave it over.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Scrunch, push, shove.
The basket stayed the same.
“You can’t squeeze it,” said Roger, laughing. “You have to take it apart. You have to do it over.”
Rachel stuck her tongue out at Roger. She looked as if she didn’t want to do it over. She wanted it to be perfect the first time.
“All right!” called Mrs. Peters. “Let’s finish up now. Those who are through may put their baskets here on the table, and start to clean up the scraps.”
Molly wished she were finished. She wished she were cleaning up scraps. Instead, she kept weaving.
In and out.
In and out.
Mrs. Peters was helping Rachel unweave her loose basket. Rachel began to weave again.
In and out.
In and out.
Just as Mrs. Peters said “Our time is up for today,” Molly finished. Her basket was not skinny now. It was not too fat either. It looked just right to hold food.
Rachel’s looked better too. It wasn’t quite finished. So it was shorter than the other Scout baskets.
The Scouts scrambled after all the scraps of wood and wicker. Kevin Moe swept the floor. Tim Noon held the dustpan.
Then Mrs. Peters said, “These are wonderful baskets! Someone will feel good to get one on Thanksgiving Day.”
Mrs. Peters called out names for the badges.
The basket-weaving badges.
“Tracy Barnes,” she said. Tracy went up and got her badge. Her nose was running. Tracy’s nose was always running, thought Molly. It was because of allergies.
“Sonny Betz!” called Mrs. Peters. Sonny went up and got his badge. His basket was good. Sonny was artistic.
Patty and Kenny Baker, the twins, went up for their badges.
Then Rachel and Roger.
And Lisa Ronning and Mary Beth Kelly and Tim Noon.
Just when Molly thought Mrs. Peters had forgotten about her, she heard, “Molly Duff!”
Molly thanked Mrs. Peters for the badge, and pinned it on her blouse with her other badges.
It was fun to get a brand-new badge. All shiny and clean. She was proud to have so many badges for doing good deeds and helping people.
When they all had their badges, the Scouts helped Mrs. Peters put the food in the baskets.
“My mom sent this dog food,” said Sonny.
“Dogs aren’t poor!” shouted Roger. “Ho, ho! Sonny brought food for a poor dog!”
“There are lots of poor dogs,” said Tim. “I see them sniffing around garbage cans.”
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Peters. “There are homeless animals to think of. Dogs and cats. Some pets need food too.”
Molly put a can of spinach in her basket. And some cranberries.
Kevin put in a jar of peanut butter.
“Who will eat peanut butter on Thanksgiving?” said Mary Beth.
“It’s for after Thanksgiving,” he said. “When the turkey and stuffing are gone.”
“What’s this?” said Tracy. She was waving a can without a label.
“Did someone bring cans without labels on them?” asked Mrs. Peters.
Mary Beth’s face turned red. She raised her hand. “I did,” she said. “My little sister tore off the labels.”
Mrs. Peters said, “We will put just one unlabeled can in each basket. That way everyone will have one surprise for dinner!”
She always knows what to do, thought Molly.
When th
e baskets were filled, Mrs. Peters made some announcements. “I have some surprises too,” she said.
The Scouts sat up tall.
They liked surprises.
“Is your baby here?” asked Sonny.
Everyone laughed. He should be able to see the baby isn’t here, thought Molly. Mrs. Betz should tell Sonny about babies. Mrs. Peters was fatter than ever!
“No.” Mrs. Peters laughed. “Not until next month. My surprise is that we are going to go to visit a turkey farm next week. Mrs. Atkins has invited us to see her turkeys and learn how she raises them.”
“Yeah!” The Pee Wees cheered.
“And my other surprise,” Mrs. Peters went on, “is that we will give a small Thanksgiving play at the town hall. A Pilgrim play.”
The Pee Wees cheered again.
They loved plays.
They loved to dress up.
All but Molly. I can’t act, she thought. Being in a play didn’t feel like a good surprise to Molly. It felt like a lot of hard work. Scary too.
“I love Thanksgiving,” said Lisa. “Lots of turkey to eat.”
Molly’s mouth watered. She loved turkey. Turkey and cranberries and dressing and pumpkin pie. With whipped cream. And all the good smells in the house. Molly rubbed her stomach.
“I can’t wait,” she said. For the dinner, she thought, not the play.
The Scout meeting was over. The Pee Wees joined hands and said their Pee Wee Scout pledge. Then they sang their Pee Wee Scout song.
Now they would wait for next week. And their visit to Mrs. Atkins’s turkey farm.
Turkey Talk
“Take your time,” called Mrs. Peters as the Pee Wees pushed to get on the bus. “We aren’t going till everyone is on!”
Molly wanted to get a good seat. She and Mary Beth wanted to sit in the front so they would be the first ones to see the turkey farm. Roger and Sonny sat way in the back of the bus.
Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Betz sat in the middle. Mrs. Betz came along to help Mrs. Peters. To be sure no one got lost on the turkey farm.
It was Saturday. A long day stretched ahead. A perfect day to ride to the country.
The Pee Wees talked about Thanksgiving. And the turkeys. And the play at the town hall. They talked about school and vacation and their grandmas, who were coming from out of town.
Then they all sang “Over the River and Through the Woods.” By that time they were at the turkey farm.
“I see them!” shouted Mary Beth. “I see the turkeys!”
Everyone ran to the windows on Mary Beth’s side of the bus. Sure enough, far out in the field there were lots and lots of feathers. And bobbing heads. It looked like an ocean of white.
“Hello,” said Mrs. Atkins when the Scouts tumbled off the bus. “Welcome to Atkins’s Turkey Farm.”
Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Betz shook hands with Mrs. Atkins and introduced the Pee Wee Scouts.
“The turkeys are waiting for you,” she said.
“Really?” said Sonny. “Do they know we are coming?”
The Scouts laughed.
“Actually, turkeys don’t know much.” Mrs. Atkins chuckled. “They just peck, peck, peck all day long.”
Before they walked to the field, Mrs. Atkins told the Scouts about turkey farming. She told them what the turkeys ate, and how big they got, and when they were ready to go to market.
Then Mrs. Atkins led them out to the field.
“Why are there so many?” asked Tracy. “It looks like millions and millions of turkeys.”
“Thanksgiving is coming,” said Mrs. Atkins. “And next month is Christmas. Lots of people have turkey for the holidays.”
“Can we pet them?” asked Sonny.
“They aren’t dogs,” said Rachel, backing away from an extra-large turkey that was pecking at her shoe. “Shoo!” she said. But the turkey pulled at her shoestring.
“He likes you,” said Mrs. Atkins, laughing. “He wants to play.”
Rachel went to stand by Mrs. Peters. She didn’t want to play with a turkey. “Yuck,” she said. “They look dirty.”
“You’d be dirty too if you lived on a turkey farm,” said Roger.
The boys walked into the field of turkeys. Some of the turkeys were as tall as the boys!
“I never saw so many turkeys,” said Mary Beth to Molly.
“I never saw any turkeys,” replied Molly. “Except dead turkeys in the freezer at the grocery store.”
Molly and Mary Beth sat on a log at the side of the field and looked at the ocean of white feathers.
“They are so pretty,” said Mary Beth. “They aren’t dirty. And they look happy.”
Molly reached out and patted a large, friendly turkey on the head. “He’s soft!” said Molly. “Soft like a kitten on the top of his head.”
“You’re right,” said Mary Beth. She petted one too.
“I’m going to call that one Fluffy,” said Molly. “Here, Fluffy, here, Fluffy!” she called.
“Look! He’s coming!” said Mary Beth. “He’s really smart.”
It looked as if the turkey understood what Molly had said. She patted him on the head again.
“Look!” said Mary Beth. She pointed. “That turkey is after Rachel again.”
The same turkey that played with Rachel’s shoestring was chasing her around.
“Help!” shouted Rachel, running across the field. “Help!”
Right behind Rachel ran the turkey, gobbling and screeching.
Roger and the boys ran to help.
“He doesn’t like her,” said Lisa with a laugh.
Roger caught the turkey and Rachel ran back to Mrs. Peters.
“I want to sit on the bus,” she cried.
“You can come into the house and have some cookies,” said Mrs. Atkins.
Rachel looked doubtful.
“She thinks there might be a turkey in the house too,” said Lisa.
Suddenly a man in overalls came to feed the turkeys. He threw handfuls of feed out over their heads. They squawked and gobbled and pecked until it was gone. Then the man threw some more.
“Go get it, Fluffy!” said Molly. “Eat your dinner.”
“And get fat enough to roast,” said Lisa.
Molly felt awful. Lisa was right. The more Fluffy ate, the fatter he got. And the fatter he got, the better he would be to roast for Thanksgiving dinner.
“No one can eat Fluffy,” said Molly.
“Or any of them,” said Mary Beth. “They are all so soft and friendly.”
“Gobble, gobble, gobble,” said Roger, running by.
“Squawk, squawk, squawk!” said Sonny, chasing him.
The Pee Wees picked out their favorite turkeys.
Molly’s favorite was Fluffy. She followed him around and watched him. She talked to him in turkey sounds.
A big white turkey with two black tail feathers was following Sonny around. Wherever Sonny went, the turkey followed.
The Scouts sat in the warm sun watching the turkeys for a long time. “I like them,” said Molly.
“Everyone into the house!” called Mrs. Peters. “For some milk and cookies.”
The Scouts filed into Mrs. Atkins’s house. Rachel was already there. Molly didn’t feel like milk and cookies. She didn’t want to eat anything. Even turkey. Especially turkey.
“I want to take my turkey home,” said Sonny.
“You’ll have a turkey at home,” said Roger gloomily. “At Thanksgiving.”
“I want a live turkey,” said Sonny. “Not a dead turkey.”
“Turkeys live on farms,” said Mrs. Peters.
Sonny began to cry. “I want him,” he said.
Big baby, thought Molly. She would have said it out loud, but Sonny’s mother was there. She didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Maybe she felt bad about having such a baby for a son.
“Can I take my turkey home?” pleaded Sonny. “Please?”
The Scouts looked disgusted.
Scouts shouldn’t be babies.
&n
bsp; Mrs. Betz was very patient with Sonny.
“Where would he live?” asked Mrs. Betz.
“I’ll build him a house,” said Sonny.
“He’d be lonely,” said Mrs. Betz.
“He’d have me,” said Sonny. “I’d play with him.”
Mrs. Betz shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Pleeeease,” begged Sonny. He had one knee on the floor now.
Molly was disgusted. Sonny could get a badge for being the biggest baby in Troop 23.
“I suppose it would be a good experience for you,” said Mrs. Betz.
A turkey? A good experience? Molly couldn’t believe her ears! She wanted to take Fluffy home too, but she would never ask! Her mother would never let her keep a turkey.
Mrs. Betz talked to Mrs. Atkins. Then she paid her some money. Sonny dashed out the door to find the turkey with the two black tail feathers.
“You’ll need a gunnysack,” said Mrs. Atkins, laughing.
“Not my turkey,” said Sonny. “He’s not going into a sack.”
Mrs. Betz sighed and asked Mrs. Atkins for a rope. Sonny tied it around the turkey’s leg.
“Come on, Tiger,” he said. “Heel.”
Indian or
Pilgrim?
“Tiger?” cried Roger. “A turkey named Tiger? Ha!” Roger held his sides, laughing.
Tiger did not want to get on the bus.
Gobble, gobble, gobble.
Squawk, squawk, squawk.
Tiger’s wings flapped. He sputtered and fluttered. Feathers flew everywhere. Soon the whole bus was full of feathers.
Mrs. Peters did not look happy. The Pee Wees did not look happy. They did not sing on the way home. They did not laugh.
No one had much to say except Tiger. He sat on the seat next to Sonny with his feathers puffed out.
Molly kept thinking of Fluffy and the other turkeys waiting to go to market. Molly made up her mind she would never eat turkey again. She would choke before she ate Fluffy. She would eat peanut butter instead.
Next Tuesday came quickly. The Pee Wees gathered at Mrs. Peters’s house to plan the Thanksgiving play.
“Where is Sonny?” said Mrs. Peters when the Pee Wees got off the bus.
No one knew. “Maybe he forgot that today is Scout day,” said Kevin.
