four o'clock
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 Jo 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 . The land literally flowed with milk and honey on such occasions , for the lads were not required to sit at table , but allowed to partake of refreshment as they liked -- freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul . They availed themselves of the rare privilege to the fullest extent , for some tried the pleasing experiment of drinking milk while standing on their heads , others lent a charm to leapfrog by eating pie in the pauses of the game , cookies were sown broadcast over the field , and apple turnovers roosted in the trees like a new style of bird .