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Betsy at the General Store

Betsy at the General Store

by Ann Fisher, Sonny Heston

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I remembered sitting in that two-room schoolhouse, just as if it was yesterday. Mrs. Biggs would read about George Washington crossing the Delaware. The weather was terrible, and his men had no shoes or coats, and their clothes were in rags. They kept marching to defend America from the Brits. We won that war. We were a free nation. She would read the stories about our history. The pilgrims and the American Indians shared that first Thanksgiving. The Indians had taught the pilgrims to plant corn and hunt for wild game.

Mrs. Biggs started our school day saying the Lords Prayer and the Pledge Allegiance to our flag. That was her way of teaching us how thankful we were to live in a wonderful country like America. Mrs. Biggs decided she wanted her student to know the 23rd Psalm. Each day, we would practice until each student was able to stand before class and recite the 23rd Psalm.

I would push Betsy to school in her little buggy and show her to my friends. Mrs. Biggs would put Betsy in her lap while she read Bambi to us. These are very fond memories. I hope all the children will love Betsy as I did when you read about our adventures.

I have dedicated my books to my friend, Linda Gaines Williams, and Jill Williams, a very special person.

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781496972477
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 02/28/2015
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 27
File size: 5 MB
Age Range: 4 - 8 Years

About the Author

I was born on the plains of Texas. It was a wonderful experience for a child. Young Americans were farming the land and raising their families. Crops not only fed Americans, but the people in other countries. We were a proud generation. We worked hard, and we gave thanks to God for every blessing we had received. The true meanings of friendship among neighbors are something that is lost. One thing for sure, the little two-room schoolhouse was so important to the neighborhood it found a wonderful home with parents of two of my classmates. Many of my friends are no longer living; I do know that they are in heaven, smiling down on the wonderful state of Texas. I know they will be pleased that Betsy is telling her story. Betsy is learning about friendship. Betsy is learning to share. I want people to know the era in time was a very special time.

Read an Excerpt

Betsy at the General Store

By Ann Fisher


Copyright © 2015 Ann Fisher
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4969-7246-0


The old rooster was crowing "cock-a-doodle-do!" The sun would be coming up soon. I could hear my mother in the kitchen cooking breakfast. I tickled Betsy under her chin to wake her: "Wake up! Wake up sleepy head!"

"Betsy, I want to dress you in your little blue dress with the white ruffles. Oh, Betsy, you look very pretty in blue," said Annie.

I hurried and put on my little red dress with lace collar and white Rick-rack on the skirt.

I put Betsy in her little buggy and pushed her into the kitchen for breakfast. "Hurry and eat, girls. We must not keep your father waiting," said mother.

We quickly ate our breakfast. Father was waiting for us by the truck. We were quickly seated and on our way.

Mother said, "Let me hold Betsy so she can look out the window at the countryside."

"I have never seen so many wild flowers along the road as I look out the window. They are very pretty flowers. But the Texas Blue Bonnets are the prettiest of all," said Betsy.

When we arrived at the General Store, Betsy was so excited. She jumped out of the buggy knocking over a stack of peas. The canned peas rolled across the floor. Betsy was so frightened she started running. I shouted. Stop Betsy!

Stop Betsy!

Mr. Foster saw Betsy coming toward him. He picked her up! "Annie this is one frightened little pig. My, but she is pretty," said Mr. Foster.

"What's all the excitement?" Mr. Green shouted as he came through the front door. "Come and see Mr. Green," said Mr. Foster, as he put Betsy back in her buggy.


Excerpted from Betsy at the General Store by Ann Fisher. Copyright © 2015 Ann Fisher. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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