Part 11

By and by when the lollypops were all gone where good lollypops go, and the little Cottontails had hopped home to the Old Brush Heap, all of a sudden there sounded a loud chirping from the pasture just back of the house. Off the porch hopped the two bunnies, lipperty lip, clipperty clip, to see what was the matter. Oh, dear me, it was a sad sight that met their eyes on reaching the old apple tree in the green pasture. A young cowbird, hatched from an egg which her lazy mother had laid in a Yellow Throat’s nest, was pushing out the little Yellow Throats. One by one with her beak she lifted them over the edge of the nest, and as the poor little things were too young to fly, they fell to the ground.

“Isn’t that a shame?” cried kind Uncle Lucky, hopping back to the tool house for a ladder. Placing it against the old apple tree, he carried the little Yellow Throats up to their nest.

“What are you going to do with the Cowbird?” asked Little Jack Rabbit. The old gentleman rabbit scratched his head, not knowing just what to do. You see, he had such a kind heart that he didn’t want to hurt it, although it had been so cruel to the little Yellow Throats. I wish every one had as kind a heart.

“I’ve got an idea!” all of a sudden, just like that, answered Uncle Lucky. “I’ll put her in the little empty bird house,” and away he hopped with the Cowbird under his right front paw.

“Get the ladder,” he shouted. As soon as Little Jack Rabbit had placed it against the tall white pole that stood in the middle of the lawn the old gentleman rabbit climbed up and placed the Cowbird in the birdhouse.

“Goodness me!” he said, scrambling down to the ground, “it will be some job to feed that hungry bird,” and he took off his wedding stovepipe hat to scratch his left ear.

“Who will feed this little bird Until his wings grow strong? ’Twill be an awful job, I think, And keep me all day long.”

“We’ll help,” answered Mr. and Mrs. Yellow Throat. Wasn’t that kind of them? Next, little Mrs. Sparrow fluttered over from the front porch and said she’d do her best to keep little Cowbird from starving.

“Well, that’s very kind of you all,” said the old gentleman rabbit. “I’ll dig some worms right away,” and over to the tool-house he hopped for his spade.

“Oh, never harm a bird that flies Up in the country of the skies, Or twitters in the Shady tree, For God has made them to be free.

Oh, never harm four-footed folk; Nor play on them an unkind joke For God has made them, one and all, From tiny ant to giraffe tall.”

Now who do you suppose sang this song? Even dear Uncle Lucky didn’t know. As the voice seemed to come through the open window of the old gentleman rabbit’s little white house, in he hopped to find out. And what do you suppose he discovered? Why, the graphophone playing away all by itself. Wasn’t that wonderful? Well, I just guess it was. But then there are lots of wonderful things now-a-days. Ships that fly through the air and under the water and little boys and girls who are growing up to be kind-hearted men and women.

BUNNY TALE 23

THE RAGGED RABBIT GIANT

Oh, lovely roses come in June, The Bubbling Brook has learned a tune, And all the birds on bush and tree Are singing songs for you and me.

“Ha, ha,” laughed Little Jack Rabbit, as he hopped over the Sunny Meadow, “I wonder if Timmie Meadowmouse is home.”

Pretty soon the little bunny stopped before a round grass ball that hung between three strong stalks.

“Timmie Meadowmouse!” he shouted, “come out and play!” Pretty soon a tiny head peeked out of the grass house and a little voice answered:

“Oh, it’s you, is it?”

“Yes, it’s me,” replied Little Jack Rabbit, although he should have said, “It’s I.” But what do we care? Teacher isn’t around and school will soon be over and we will be in clover.

“What do you want?” asked the little meadowmouse, jumping down to the ground. “How is Uncle Lucky?”

“He’s all right,” answered the little bunny. “Have you heard what a dreadful time we had with Hungry Hawk?”

“No, tell me about it,” replied Timmie Meadowmouse. “Dear me, how I do hate that wicked bird. He’s always flying over the Sunny Meadow, looking here and looking there. But I always try to be here when he’s looking there,” and Timmie Meadowmouse winked his eye like a wise little mouse boy.

“Oh, we had a dreadful time the other day,” went on Little Jack Rabbit. “Hungry Hawk almost pushed in through the kitchen door. If Uncle Lucky hadn’t slammed it on his hooked beak, making him fast, I don’t believe the Policeman Dog could have caught him.”

“You don’t say so,” exclaimed Timmie Meadowmouse.

“Yes, I do,” answered the little bunny boy. “And pretty soon after we had tied the door tight so that the old hawk couldn’t pull away his beak, the Policeman Dog arrived and arrested him. Now he’s in the jail house in Rabbitville.”

“Then I shall have some peace for a while,” laughed the timid little meadowmouse. “Oh, I’m so glad!” and he skipped over the meadow and after him hopped the little bunny boy. By and by, after a while, but not nearly a mile, they came to the Old Rail Fence, on the top of which sat Chippy Chipmunk in his striped fur jacket.

“What makes you two fellows so frisky?” he asked.

“Oh, just because we’re happy,” answered the little meadowmouse.

“That’s it,” laughed Little Jack Rabbit. “When you’re happy your feet just skiptoe over the ground. You almost think you’re flying.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” said a voice, all of a sudden, just like that.

Dear me, I suppose I should have kept you from worrying by telling you right off whose voice it was that shouted “Stuff and nonsense!”

It was Grandmother Magpie’s. That’s whose voice it was. And the old lady blackbird looked most forbidding, let me tell you. Oh, yes, she did, and no mistake about it.

“Good morning,” said the little bunny boy.

“I hope you’re well,” cried Timmie Meadowmouse.

“It’s a lovely day,” chimed in Chippy Chipmunk.

“What were you saying about flying?” asked Grandmother Magpie, with a toss of her head.

“Dear me, I’ve forgotten,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit. “I was so happy a minute ago and now I’ve forgotten what made me so.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” went on Grandmother Magpie, sometimes called Old Mother Mischief because she is always interfering in other people’s business.

“Mother told me not to answer your questions,” replied Little Jack Rabbit.

“What?” almost screamed Grandmother Magpie.

“Yes, she did,” went on the little bunny boy rabbit, brave as a lion,—a little lion, of course,—not a great big one. “She said you meddled too much with every one’s affairs.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” snapped old lady blackbird, and without another word she flew away.

“Oh, isn’t she mad,” laughed Chippy Chipmunk.

“Serves her right,” cried Timmie Meadowmouse. “She’s the most disagreeable thing in the whole Shady Forest.”

“Don’t forget Old Man Weasel,” said Little Jack Rabbit.

“Nor Danny Fox,” chirped Bobbie Redvest. “Guess I’ll go with you.”

“Come along,” answered the little bunny boy. “I’m on my way to Cozy Cave to see the Big Brown Bear,” and away he hopped, lipperty lip, clipperty clip, up the Shady Forest Trail, in and out among the trees, through the glen and up the wooded hillside till he reached Mr. Bear’s dwelling place.

“My, but I’m tired,” sighed the little bunny boy rabbit, seating himself on the big wooden bench just outside the Cozy Cave. “I wonder where the Big Brown Bear has gone,” and he looked this way and that way, up and down, back and forth, but no big brown fur overcoat came into view.

By and by, not so very long, the little rabbit boy bunny fell asleep. At first he closed only one eye, his left eye. Then he opened it and shut his right eye. After a little he closed them both for a minute, but the next time he forgot to open them.

Dear, dear me! I hope nothing dreadful happens to Little Jack Rabbit before he wakes up.

Pretty soon as the little rabbit slept on who should come tiptoeing by but Old Man Weasel. Dear, dear me! No sooner did he see Little Jack Rabbit than he tip-toed even more softly around the big tree. Then he peeked out, first on one side and then on the other. I suppose he thought the Big Brown Bear might be in his cave wrapping up Lollypops and Ice Cream Cones.

By and by the old weasel grew bolder. Nobody came around and the little bunny boy rabbit kept on sleeping, oh, so peacefully, dreaming about red clover tops and carrot candies and ’licious lollypops and marshmallow drops.

“Ha, ha!” cried the old weasel, softly, just to himself, you know, as he sneaked on his tippy toes toward the Cozy Cave. “Ha, ha! Won’t I have a nice dinner,” he whispered, smacking his lips,—yes, he smacked them again!

“Wake up!” shouted Bobbie Redvest so loudly that Little Jack Rabbit woke up with a start. And then right over the wicked Weasel he hopped just like a frog and away through the Shady Forest until he bumped right into the Big Brown Bear.

“Oh, dear, and oh, dear!” he cried. “I’m glad it’s you, but why didn’t you come sooner?”

“Why?” asked the nice kind old bear with a good-natured grin. “Better late than never.”

“Oh, yes, oh, yes,” answered the frightened little bunny boy rabbit. “But if you’d only come two minutes ago I’d still be dreaming I was eating lemon drops and lollypops, clover tops and marshmallow drops.”

“Well, I’m glad I waited,” replied the Big Brown Bear. “If you had eaten much more you’d have been, and maybe you will be, twisted into a double bowknot by a tummy ache.”

“What?” cried the little rabbit.

“Well, perhaps not,” laughed the big bear. “Come, turn around and go home with me. I’ll give you a drink of Cranberry Tea.”

Then arm in arm, although of course the Big Brown Bear had to lean way over and way down, they both went up the Shady Forest Trail till they came to the Cozy Cave. Of course Old Man Weasel was nowhere to be seen, although they both looked for him here and there and everywhere. At last the Big Brown Bear said:

“Maybe you dreamed about him.”

“No, no, no! I can remember all my dreams,” cried the little bunny boy rabbit. “And sometimes I feel I’m dreaming all day, I’ve formed such a strange dreamy habit.”

“Gracious me!” exclaimed the Big Brown Bear. “You’re a queer little bunny boy. You’re a Peter Pan Bunny, so you are.”

“Tell me a story, won’t you?” asked Little Jack Rabbit, hopping up on the bench beside the Big Brown Bear. “Tell me a story. I love to hear about rabbit giants and bunny dwarfs.”

“Ho, hum,” sighed the Big Brown Bear, “I’m not much of a story teller. Let me see. Maybe I can remember one that my old grandmother told me when I was a cub. My, but that’s a long time ago. I hope my memory is as good as my appetite.”

“Please hurry,” begged the little rabbit boy bunny.

“Well, here we go,” laughed the good-natured bear. “Once upon a time there lived a rabbit giant who had only one tooth. But it was an immense big tooth. Oh, my, yes. It was so long that it came down beyond his lip about two inches. This made him look very fierce, oh, very fierce indeed, and all the rabbits and bunnies and hares for miles and miles around were afraid of him. They hardly dared to pass his big dark bungalow, half hidden in a scraggly bramble patch in a stony, barren field.

“One day as the Ragged Rabbit Giant (for he lived all by himself without wife or children and so had nobody to mend his clothes and teach him to be polite) hopped out of his broken-down, disorderly bungalow, whom should he meet but a fairy bunny. Such a pretty fairy lady bunny rabbit.

“‘Oh, my, oh, dear, oh, me, oh, my!’ she exclaimed, ‘why don’t you get a hair cut and a new suit of clothes? And why don’t you mend your bramble patch bungalow house?’

“‘What’s the use?’ replied the big rabbit man. ‘I’m so big and homely and one-toothed that nobody cares about me. All the bunny boys and rabbit girls are afraid of me, and I’ve grown so lonesome. No one comes to see me, only a friendly fly and a little black cricket.’

“‘You seem to have a kind heart,’ said the lady bunny fairy queen, although I didn’t mention before that she was a queen. But she is, just the same.

“‘Are you very lonely and unhappy?’ she asked, as the big bunny giant gave a tre-men-dous sigh.

“‘Oh, yes,’ he answered, ‘I’m so lonely that it hurts.’

“‘Now you just wait a minute,’ said the bunny fairy queen. ‘Sit down and fold your paws over your ragged waistcoat and say after me:

“‘Winky pinky lollypops, Ice cream cones and chocolate drops.’

“So the big sorrowful Ragged Rabbit Giant sat down and repeated after her:

“‘Winky pinky lollypops, Ice cream cones and chocolate drops.’

“Well, no sooner had the bunny giant said these marvelous words than he changed into a very nice-looking rabbit man, with a new coat and hat, well fitting trousers and tan shoes, and where his ugly long tooth had once been, now appeared a good cabbage leaf cigar.

“‘Now see what I’ve done for you,’ cried the fairy bunny queen.

“‘I can’t,’ answered the rabbit giant. ‘My little cracked looking-glass is home in the bungalow.’

“‘Well, never mind,’ replied the fairy queen bunny lady rabbit, ‘you may wait till you go home. But before you leave I must tell you why I’ve made you into such a nice-looking gentleman rabbit bunny.’

“‘Do tell me,’ said the rabbit giant, although now, of course, he was a giant no more,—just a nice large-sized bunny rabbit man.

“‘I want you to surprise the friendly fly and the little black cricket. You’ve been so very kind to them that they probably think you’re very nice-looking. But just wait till they see you now.’

“‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ said the rabbitman, ‘I’ll hop right home, but on my way I’ll pick some flowers and a lollypop off the lollypop tree. My little friends will like them,’ and away went the rabbitman, happy to think that he could please a fly and a cricket.”

“That’s a very nice story,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “But please keep on till the rabbitman gets home to his bungalow. I want to hear what the fly and the cricket say when they see him. They will be so surprised that he isn’t a ragged giant rabbitman any more.”

“To be sure,” said the Big Brown Bear. “Now, let me see. I hope my memory doesn’t fail me right here. It’s behaved very well so far. Oh, yes, now I know what happened as soon as the rabbitman walked into his big dark bungalow.

“‘Who’s that?’ cried the little cricket.

“‘What do you want?’ asked the fly.

“‘Don’t you know me?’ asked the rabbitman, ‘I’m the Ragged Rabbit Giant.’

“‘No, you’re not,’ answered the fly.

“‘Of course you’re not,’ shouted the little cricket.

“‘But I am,’ retorted the rabbitman. ‘See, I know where my looking-glass is. I must find it for I’ve not seen myself since the fairy rabbit queen changed me into a nice-looking rabbit.’

“‘I don’t believe you,’ shouted the little cricket, who couldn’t understand how the fairy queen rabbit lady could make him into such a nice-looking bunnyman.

“‘You get out of here! No one shall touch our master’s things,’ commanded the little fly, stinging the rabbitman on his long left ear.

“‘Dear, dear me,’ he said, ‘how am I to convince these two that I am really the Ragged Rabbit Giant, only changed into some one nicer looking.’

“‘We always liked our Ragged Rabbit Giant,’ said the little cricket. ‘He was good to us. He fed and sheltered and never drove us away. Oh, yes, he was kind and good, and we expect him back any minute, so you’d better get out. He can pick you up with one hand and throw you a mile.’

“‘Dear, dear me!’ sighed the rabbitman. ‘I’m worse off than I was before. I’ve lost two dear kind friends. The only friends I ever had.’

“Just then who should come in but the fairy lady bunny.

“‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Why, Mr. Rabbitman, you seem more lonely than when a Ragged Rabbit Giant.’

“‘I am,’ he answered sadly. ‘My two little friends, the only two friends I’ve ever known, don’t rec-og-nize me. Please turn me back into a ragged rabbit. I’d rather be ragged and homely than lose these two little friends.’

“‘You shan’t lose them,’ she laughed. ‘Let me explain,’ and turning to the wondering little fly and cricket, in a few minutes they couldn’t help but believe the lovely fairy rabbit bunny queen, and they saw again their Ragged Rabbit Giant master, clean-shaven, well clothed and handsome. Yes, he was the same, only different.

“In a short time he repaired his big bungalow, weeded the garden and cut the grass. Soon all the bunny boys and rabbit girls stopped to see him on their way home from school. They called him ‘Uncle Raggedy,’ although he wasn’t ragged any more. But he didn’t mind, for his big heart was full of love for all little people.

“Now, that’s all,” said the Big Brown Bear, with a yawn.

“Thank you very much,” cried the little bunny, “I must be going.” On the way Danny Fox and Mr. Wicked Wolf spied him. But while they were fighting it out between them away he hopped back to the dear Old Bramble Patch.

BUNNY TALE 24

GRANDDADDY BULLFROG

Granddaddy Bullfrog was a wise sort of a person. He rarely spoke, but when he did he always said something worth while.

“Good morning,” shouted Little Jack Rabbit one sunshiny forenoon, stopping at the Old Duck Pond where the Old Gentleman Frog was sitting on a log.

“It’s a good morning if you have helped your mother with her work,” answered Granddaddy Bullfrog.

“I have,” replied the little bunny boy. “I’ve polished the front doorknob, fed the canary and filled the woodbox with kindling.”

“You’re a good little bunny boy,” answered the wise old frog. “When I was a tadpole I worked hard for my mother, but it never hurt me. No, siree!” and Granddaddy Bullfrog smoothed down the wrinkle in his white waistcoat and wiped his spectacles on a clean piece of meadow grass.

“You said, ‘When you were a tadpole.’ Does that mean when you were a boy?” asked Little Jack Rabbit.

“Yes, sir, that’s what it means,” replied the old gentleman frog, snapping up a fly that ventured too near the big log.

Just then Mrs. Oriole from her nest in the Weeping Willow Tree began to sing:

“Up here in my stocking-like nest we swing, My little birdies and I. We are content ’neath our willow tent To sing as the day goes by.”

“When will your little birds learn to fly?” asked the curious bunny boy rabbit.

“As soon as their wings are strong and well feathered,” answered the pretty lady bird mother. “It won’t be long.”

“Ker dunk, ker dunk!” croaked Granddaddy Bullfrog.

“Don’t you like cabbage leaf cigars?” asked the little bunny boy, as the old gentleman frog wiped a tear from his left eye.

“Not so bad,” he answered. “But I can’t catch flies and smoke at the same time!”

Just then along came a buzzy bluebottle fly. Out dropped the cabbage leaf cigar as Granddaddy Bullfrog opened his mouth. Sputter, sputter! and the big cigar floated away, frightening Taddy Tadpole almost to death.

“Don’t you ever start smoking,” advised the old gentleman frog. “Cabbage is good to eat, but it makes poor cigars.”

“I never will,” answered the little bunny boy. “Mother doesn’t like it.”

Pretty soon Granddaddy Bullfrog closed his eyes. Thinking he was asleep, the bunny boy hopped away up the Old Cow Path, over the hill, till by and by, after a while, and a song and a smile, he came to the Big Red Barn, on the top of which stood the Weathercock on his gilded toe.

“It’s going to rain, It’s going to rain. Billy Breeze is Singing a low refrain. The swallows are flying Swift and low. I must point to the East With my weather toe!”

sang the Weathercock, whirling about to point at the big black clouds creeping over the bright blue sky.

“Dear me!” thought the bunny boy, “I must borrow an umbrella. However, just then he spied a large toadstool.

“That will do!” he laughed, and holding it over his head, he quickly hopped away.

“Cock-a-doodle do, The grass is wet with dew. But soon it will be dry again Unless the sunshine turns to rain,”

sang Cocky Doodle, the happy little rooster.

“I’m going for a swim,” quacked Ducky Waddles, and off he went through the gate and across the Sunny Meadow to the Old Duck Pond, where all day long the blue Darning Needles skimmed over the water.

“Good morning,” quacked the wabbly little duck.

“The same to you,” answered the old gentleman frog, “fine day if it doesn’t rain.”

“I don’t care if it does,” answered Ducky Waddles, paddling off from the shore like a green-feathered ferryboat.

“I don’t mind the gentle rain, It helps the flowers and the grain, It makes the Bubbling Brook run free Across the meadow to the sea.”

“Well, well, well,” cried Granddaddy Bullfrog. “What have we here? A duck poet?”

But Ducky Waddles was out of hearing by this time. Well, I should say yes, twice over. He was standing on his head, trying to catch a little fish that shimmered in the water.

“What did you say?” asked Mrs. Oriole from her stocking-like nest in the Weeping Willow Tree.

“I just remarked that we had a poet in Ducky Waddles,” answered Granddaddy Bullfrog. “Did you hear him answer me in rime?”

“No, I didn’t,” replied Mrs. Oriole. “I was busy with the children. But I heard you say something about a duck poet. I should say he was an acrobat. Look at him now,” and Mrs. Oriole pointed to Ducky Waddles still standing on his head in the water.

“Ha, ha!” laughed Granddaddy Bullfrog. “He’s fishing, that’s what he’s doing.”

Pretty soon along came Teddy Turtle with his strong shell house on his back. He didn’t have to worry about hotels in the summer. No, indeed! He carried his little bungalow on his back and stopped wherever he wanted to. Yes, sir. He could go to Newport or Narragansett Pier for the summer if he wished, I dare say. But I’m not quite sure.

“Is that Ducky Waddles out there in the pond?” asked the little turtle.

“Yes, that’s who it is,” replied Granddaddy Bullfrog, “he’s catching fish and I’m catching flies and the sun is shining up in the skies.”

“Dear me,” thought Teddy Turtle. “Granddaddy Bullfrog is talking poetry. I’d better be going,” and off he went.

But, oh, dear me! Just as the little turtle crawled away from the Old Duck Pond all of a sudden, just like that, a shadow came across the sun. Into the pond went Granddaddy Bullfrog and into his shell house went Teddy Turtle’s head and tail.

“Oh, pshaw!” cried Hungry Hawk, for it was his shadow that had fallen on the meadow as he passed between the sun and the slow crawling turtle. “I thought I had you this time.”

“Did you?” asked Teddy Turtle from the inside of his shell. “Maybe you would if I hadn’t pulled in my head and tail.”

“Now what am I going to do for dinner?” asked the old robber bird.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” replied Teddy Turtle. “Just fly away, will you?”

“Maybe,” answered Hungry Hawk.

“Where are you?” asked Teddy Turtle after a few moments, carefully pushing out his head, but only a little way, you know. But no one answered. So the little turtle pushed out his head a little more, trying his best to look three or four ways all at once.

“Look out! Look out!” whispered Billy Breeze.

“That’s what I’m doing,” answered the little turtle. “Only I’m afraid to look out too far.”

“Be careful, be careful,” whispered Billy Breeze.

“What did you say?” asked Teddy Turtle. “I can’t hear very well inside my shell house.”

“Be careful, be careful!” whispered Billy Breeze.

But, dear me! Teddy Turtle was getting curious. Yes, sir, he was getting so curious that he just couldn’t keep his head indoors any longer.

“Look out!” shouted Billy Breeze. But, oh, dear me! It was too late. Robber Hawk had already grabbed the little turtle’s head.

“Let me go! Let me go!” begged the frightened little turtle.