How they ever grew up alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts , but they flourished like dandelions in spring , and their rough nurses loved and served them well . There were a great many holidays at Plumfield , and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking . For then the Marches , Laurences , Brookes and Bhaers turned out in full force and made a day of it . Five years after Jo 's wedding , one of these fruitful festivals occurred , a mellow October day , when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins . The old orchard wore its holiday attire . Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls . Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass , and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast . Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting . Birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane , and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake . Everybody was there . Everybody laughed and sang , climbed up and tumbled down . Everybody declared that there never had been such a perfect day or such a jolly set to enjoy it , and everyone gave themselves up to the simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no such things as care or sorrow in the world . Mr. March strolled placidly about , quoting Tusser , Cowley , and Columella to Mr. Laurence , while enjoying ... The gentle apple 's winey juice . The Professor charged up and down the green aisles like a stout Teutonic knight , with a pole for a lance , leading on the boys , who made a hook and ladder company of themselves , and performed wonders in the way of ground and lofty tumbling . Laurie devoted himself to the little ones , rode his small daughter in a bushel-basket , took Daisy up among the bird 's nests , and kept adventurous Rob from breaking his neck . Mrs. March and Meg sat among the apple piles like a pair of Pomonas , sorting the contributions that kept pouring in , while Amy with a beautiful motherly expression in her face sketched the various groups , and watched over one pale lad , who sat adoring her with his little crutch beside him . Jo was in her element that day , and rushed about , with her gown pinned up , and her hat anywhere but on her head , and her baby tucked under her arm , ready for any lively adventure which might turn up . Little Teddy bore a charmed life , for nothing ever happened to him , and Jo never felt any anxiety when he was whisked up into a tree by one lad , galloped off on the back of another , or supplied with sour russets by his indulgent papa , who labored under the Germanic delusion that babies could digest anything , from pickled cabbage to buttons , nails , and their own small shoes . She knew that little Ted would turn up again in time , safe and rosy , dirty and serene , and she always received him back with a hearty welcome , for Jo loved her babies tenderly . At four o'clock a lull took place , and baskets remained empty , while the apple pickers rested and compared rents and bruises .
Then XXXXX and Meg , with a detachment of the bigger boys , set forth the supper on the grass , for an out-of-door tea was always the crowning joy of the day .
Germanic Jo Laurence Meg Teutonic Tusser apple-picking bushel-basket day russets