On New Year’s Eve a mail-coach pulled into town with twelve passengers. They each had their passports. They were asked who they were.
People fixed their hopes upon him and he was a merchant.
Was the shortest lived and a reveller.
Was a weather prophet, but praised fasting and carried a small bunch of violets.
Liked to fool people and be merry.
Miss May was beautiful and smelled wonderful. She sang beautifully in the woods.
Was fond of sleeping and she gave a feast on the longest day of the year.
Was a plump young fellow and wore hardly anything for the heat.
Was a hardworking woman with many fruits as reward.
Caused the entire forest to change its color when he arrived.
Spoke of hunting and farming.
Coughed and coughed and coughed.
Brought everything Christmas.
It was decided that their passports would be kept and each would be available for a month. Afterwards, their conduct would be recorded.
This story applies only to people in the northern hemisphere.
This is just a story saying how the months of the year generally turn out.
September is the best.
What is your favorite month?
Are you fond of stories that describe the months of the year?