"Well, dear, when I had written to mamma, and Johnny had folded it -- because I can write but I can't fold it, and he can fold it but he can't write it — we went to the North Pole, and we got a mile; and then we saw that nasty Newfoundland dog sitting in the road waiting to torment us. It is Farmer Johnson's, and it plays with us, and knocks us down, and licks us, and frightens us, and we hate it; so we came home."