along fast, Uncle Wiggily, or it will be dark before we get home!” So,
whether he liked it or not, Uncle Wiggily had to hop along very fast,
and so did Baby Bunty. But it’s a good thing they did, for, when they
were almost at the hollow stump bungalow, out popped the bad Pipsisewah,
trying to get the new shoes.
And, only that Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty were hopping so fast, the
Pip might have caught them.
But he didn’t, I am glad to say, and when Baby Bunty reached home and
tried on her new shoes they fitted perfectly, and Uncle Wiggily wasn’t
hardly stiff at all. And if the lawn mower doesn’t try to cut a slice
off the cake of soap for the goldfish to take a bath, I’ll tell you next
about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s hair ribbon.
STORY XI
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BUNTY’S RIBBON
Once upon a time Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl, who was hidden in a
hollow stump until she was found, said to Uncle Wiggily:
“Will you come with me for a walk in the woods today?”
“Why, yes, Baby Bunty, I think I will,” answered Mr. Longears. “But I am
a bit stiff, and my rheumatism hurts a little, so please don’t ask me to
chase you or do anything exciting like that.”
“I won’t,” promised Baby Bunty, but, as she tied her red sky-blue pink
hair ribbon around her neck, the little rabbit girl smiled in a queer
way.
“No,” she said to herself, as Uncle Wiggily took his red, white and blue
striped rheumatism crutch down off the fence post, “I won’t make him
chase me, but I’ll keep him from going to sleep. He’s a dear old rabbit
gentleman, but he’s getting old—or he thinks he is. I must keep him
lively!”
So Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty hopped off through the woods. Nurse Jane
Fuzzy Wuzzy stood in the doorway of the hollow stump bungalow and
watched them.
“My! Baby Bunty has on her best hair ribbon today,” said the muskrat
lady housekeeper. “I hope nothing happens to it.”
As Baby Bunty hopped along, now running ahead of Uncle Wiggily and now
lagging behind to pick a pretty flower, all of a sudden her green yellow
brown hair ribbon caught on a bush and the bow was untied.
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily! Please tie my hair ribbon!” cried Baby Bunty with a
laugh.
Uncle Wiggily leaned on his red white and blue striped rheumatism
crutch, and, with his paws, tied Baby Bunty’s ribbon.
“There!” he said, as he patted down the big bow, which looked like the
wings of a butterfly, “I hope your hair ribbon doesn’t come untied
again.”
“I hope so, too,” said Baby Bunty.
On and on she hopped through the woods with Uncle Wiggily. They were
looking for a nice place for the little rabbit girl to play. All of a
sudden, as she was peeping down in a robin’s nest, to see how big the
little birds were, her hair ribbon caught on a branch of a tree, and
loose the bow came again.
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily! Will you please tie my hair ribbon?” cried Baby
Bunty with a laugh.
“Dear me!” said Uncle Wiggily. “That’s a very loose ribbon, Baby Bunty!
I ought to have brought some glue to make the bow stay tied fast.”
But he fixed it for the little rabbit girl, and on they hopped again.
Pretty soon they came to a beautiful place in the woods. On the ground
was a soft velvet carpet of green grass. Around it was a fringe of
ferns. Overhead was a big umbrella of trees, which kept off the hot sun.
“Here is a good place for you to play, Baby Bunty,” said Uncle Wiggily.
“You may gather flowers, hop on the grass or even turn somersaults.”
“And what are you going to do, Uncle Wiggily?” asked the little rabbit
girl.
“Oh, I shall go to sleep,” said the old gentleman rabbit.
Baby Bunty wrinkled up her nose in a funny little way, but she didn’t
say anything—just then. Uncle Wiggily found a soft stump for a seat,
with a soft mossy covered tree for a back rest, and there he sat down.
Pretty soon his eyes closed, his pink nose stopped twinkling, and he was
asleep.
“Oh, dear!” said Baby Bunty. “This isn’t any fun—to have him go to
sleep! Ah, I know what I’ll do!”
She played around a little, turning peppersaults and somersaults, and,
all at once, she gave her hair ribbon a little pull.
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily!” she cried, running up to the rabbit gentleman. “My
ribbon is untied again! Please fix it for me!”
Uncle Wiggily opened his eyes and grunted.
“It seems to me your hair ribbon is always coming untied,” he said. But
he made a nice fancy bow for Baby Bunty, and then he went to sleep
again, while she played about. But, pretty soon back she hopped.
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily!” she cried.
“What!” exclaimed the old rabbit gentleman. “Is your hair ribbon loose
again? Am I never to get any sleep?”
“It isn’t my hair ribbon this time,” said Baby Bunty. “But I saw a big
fox sneaking along in the bushes behind you, and I thought he might bite
some souse off your ears, so I woke you up!”
“I’m glad you did!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “And you awakened me just in
time, too. Now we can run away before the fox gets us!”
And run away they did, and the old fox didn’t get them.
“But I would have had a nice lot of souse off Uncle Wiggily’s ears, if
Baby Bunty hadn’t awakened him,” said the fox, hungry like.
And, if the green grass doesn’t turn pink when the red rose leaves fall
on it, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s ball.
STORY XII
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BUNTY’S BALL
“Will you come for another nice walk in the woods, today, Uncle
Wiggily?” asked Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl, as she danced around
the hollow stump bungalow where she lived with Mr. Longears.
“Hum! Another nice walk in the woods, eh?” asked Uncle Wiggily,
suspicious like and premeditated. “Are you going to wear a big hair
ribbon bow, that comes untied all the while?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” laughed Baby Bunty. “I’ll only wear a tiny bow today. I won’t
keep waking you up all the time to tie it for me.”
That’s what Baby Bunty did in the story before this, if you will kindly
remember. But, after all, it was a good thing she did. On account of the
fox, you know.
“Well, come along!” said Uncle Wiggily, after he had asked his muskrat
lady housekeeper, Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, what they were going to have
for dinner.
“May I bring my rubber ball?” asked Baby Bunty, as she came out of the
hollow stump bungalow with a very small pumpkin-colored hair ribbon
around her ears.
“Oh, yes, bring your ball along,” said Uncle Wiggily kindly. “But please
don’t sprinkle any water from it on me while I’m asleep.”
“I won’t,” promised Baby Bunty. And then, as Uncle Wiggily hopped along
on his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, and as Baby Bunty
ran along beside him, the little rabbit girl said: “Oh, dear! If he’s
going to sleep every time we come to the woods, I’ll have no fun at all.
But maybe I’ll find a way to keep him awake,” she said to herself, as
she bounced her rubber ball.
On they went through the green woods, Baby Bunty running to and fro as
fast as an automobile, and Uncle Wiggily coming along more like a
trolley car, substantial-like, though unpoetical. The little rabbit girl
picked pretty flowers now and then, while Mr. Longears chewed a bit of
birch bark, or nibbled at sassafras and wintergreen, hoping it would
cure his rheumatism.
“Now here is a nice place for you to play, Baby Bunty,” said Uncle
Wiggily when they reached a green glade in the forest. “And I’ll just
sit down on this soft, mossy log and think a bit.”
“Yes, I know what that means!” whispered Baby Bunty to herself. “It
means he’ll go to sleep and won’t play tag or anything with me, and I
can’t have any fun! Oh, dear!”
She bounced her ball on a bare, sandy place, while Uncle Wiggily picked
out the softest, green, mossy log he could find. He laid aside his
rheumatism crutch, took off his tall silk hat, and, folding his paws
over his red vest, closed his eyes. His pink nose stopped twinkling.
“He’s asleep!” said Baby Bunty.
All of a sudden her bouncing rubber ball gave a big jump, and before the
little rabbit girl could get her paws on it the rubber ball bounded
right over on Uncle Wiggily’s bare head.
“Oh, I say! A-ker-choo! What’s that?” he cried, waking up all at once,
and not partly, as he did sometimes.
“It is only my rubber ball!” said Bunty sweetly. “I’m so sorry it struck
you! But, now that you are awake, don’t you want to play tag with me?”
“Not now,” said Uncle Wiggily. “I will later. I haven’t had my nap out
yet. Please be careful of your ball, Baby Bunty.”
“I will,” said the little rabbit girl with a smile.
Uncle Wiggily closed his eyes again, and he was just slumbering nicely,
when, just as Baby Bunty gave her rubber ball an extra hard bounce, away
it flew again, and this time it landed right on the rabbit gentleman’s
pink nose.
“My goodness me, sakes alive and some rice pudding without any raisins
in!” he cried. “What’s that?”
“Only my rubber ball,” said Bunty, sweetly. “I’m sorry it awakened you.
Don’t you want to——”
“I want to finish my nap,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Please go away far off
and bounce your ball, Bunty.”
Once more he went to sleep. Baby Bunty, with a funny look on her face,
hopped off in the woods. Then, all of a sudden, through the trees came
flying her rubber ball. Straight as an arrow it flew, and it struck
Uncle Wiggily right on his red vest.
“Oh, my goodness me, sakes alive and some peanut lollypops!” he cried.
“Is that your ball again, Bunty?”
“Yes,” said the little rabbit girl, “it is. I was trying to throw it so
Bully No-Tail, the frog boy, could toss it back to me. But I guess I
didn’t throw straight enough. I’m sorry my ball hit you, Uncle Wiggily,
but, now that you are awake, don’t you want to——”
“Oh, yes, I’ll play tag or hide-and-go seek or even turn somersaults!”
laughed the bunny.
“Between you and your ball, Baby Bunty, I’ll never get any sleep!”
“I thought you wouldn’t,” said Baby Bunty, smiling in a funny way. Then
she and Mr. Longears had lots of fun. And, if the sunshine doesn’t
tickle the raindrops and make them fall on the umbrella plant, I’ll tell
you next about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s carriage.
STORY XIII
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BUNTY’S CARRIAGE
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily, Uncle Wiggily,” called a jolly voice one day outside
the hollow stump bungalow, where Mr. Longears, the rabbit gentleman,
lived with Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper.
“Ha! I wonder if that’s Sammie or Susie Littletail, or Johnnie or Billie
Bushytail?” asked Uncle Wiggily, as he turned a leaf of the cabbage
newspaper he was reading.
“That’s Baby Bunty,” said Nurse Jane. “I guess she wants you to take her
for a ride in her little red carriage. I see she has it out in front.”
“Oh, I can’t play with Baby Bunty today!” said Uncle Wiggily quickly. “I
must go over and call on Grandfather Goosey Gander.”
“Baby Bunty will be so disappointed,” spoke Nurse Jane.
“It’s too bad,” agreed Mr. Longears. “But I must have a little rest and
quiet. Baby Bunty is so lively!”
“Well, she keeps you that way, too,” said the muskrat lady. “And, on the
whole, perhaps it is a good thing for you. I believe you have become
younger these last two weeks.”
“Hum!” said Uncle Wiggily, noncommital like and unconvinced. “Anyhow I
can’t play with Baby Bunty this morning.”
And when he told this to the little rabbit girl, whom he had found in a
hollow stump, she said:
“Oh, dear! Then I’ll have to go off in the woods by myself and pick wild
flowers. But will you play with me some other time, Uncle Wiggily, and
chase me and have a game of tag and all that?”
“Yes,” promised Uncle Wiggily, as he put on his tall silk hat, and
looked to see if his pink nose was twinkling properly, “I’ll play with
you later.”
So he went one way through the woods, and Baby Bunty went another,
pushing her carriage, in which she often used to be wheeled when she was
smaller than she was now.
“Don’t get lost!” said Uncle Wiggily, as he waved his paw to the little
rabbit girl.
“I’ll try not to,” she said.
Uncle Wiggily had a nice visit with his old friend, Grandfather Goosey
Gander. They talked about the time when they were young and spry.
“But I’m getting old and stiff now,” said Uncle Wiggily.
“You need some one to keep you lively,” quacked Grandpa Goosey.
“Oh, I have some one!” laughed Mr. Longears. “You should see Baby Bunty!
Say, now I think of it, come on back to my hollow stump bungalow and
stay to lunch. I’ll show you Baby Bunty—if she’s home. But she’s nearly
always out in the woods, hopping around. She started off with her
carriage just before I came here. Perhaps she went to get some one to
give her a ride, as I had no time. Come and see Baby Bunty.”
“I will!” promised Grandfather Goosey Gander.
Together he and Uncle Wiggily went through the woods. But they had not
traveled very far before, all at once, Grandpa Goosey cried:
“Look there, Uncle Wiggily! What’s that rolling down the hill in front
of us? It looks like a baby carriage!”
“It is!” cried Mr. Longears, as he peered through his spectacles. “It’s
Baby Bunty’s carriage, and it’s running away down hill. Oh, she’ll be
hurt! I must hop after that carriage and stop it!”
“You never can catch that carriage!” quacked Grandpa Goosey. “It’s
rolling down hill too fast! You are so old and stiff, like myself——”
“Am I old and stiff?” cried Uncle Wiggily. “You just watch me hop!”
He jammed his tall silk hat down on his head, took a tight hold of his
red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, and down the hill he
leaped.
Faster and faster rolled Baby Bunty’s carriage! Faster and faster hopped
Uncle Wiggily, his coat tails streaming out behind like two girls’s hair
ribbons.
“I’ll save you, Bunty! I’ll save you!” cried the rabbit gentleman.
“Don’t jump out of the carriage. I’ll get you! I can hop fast, even if I
am stiff!”
With one big, extra long hop he reached the carriage, and caught hold of
it in his paws just as it was going to tip over. He looked inside,
thinking to see Baby Bunty half frightened out of her eye teeth, but,
instead, there was only a big bouquet of wild flowers.
“Well! Well! What does this mean?” asked Uncle Wiggily, all out of
breath, but still not stiff any more. “What is all this?”
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily!” cried Baby Bunty, from the top of the hill, where
she stood with Grandpa Goosey, “did you think I was in that runaway
carriage?”
“I certainly did!” answered Mr. Longears.
“Why, I wasn’t at all!” laughed Baby Bunty. “I just used it to hold the
wild flowers I picked. And when I wheeled it to the top of the hill it
slipped away from me, and ran down. My! But you did run fast, Uncle
Wiggily!”
“I should say he did!” quacked Granda Goosey. “Faster than I ever saw
him hop before.”
“But it’s good for his rheumatism,” spoke Baby Bunty.
Mr. Longears never said a word as he wheeled the carriage up hill. But
if the ice cream doesn’t melt when the gas stove asks it to dance the
fox trot, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s party.
STORY XIV
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BUNTY’S PARTY
“My goodness me, sakes alive, Nurse Jane!” cried Uncle Wiggily Longears
one morning, as he came downstairs in his hollow stump bungalow. “Why
are you making so many cakes, pies and jam tarts? You have enough for a
picnic!”
“These are for Baby Bunty!” explained the muskrat lady housekeeper.
“What! Is she going to eat all those?” asked Uncle Wiggily,
surprised-like, not to say disconcerted.
“Oh, I’m going to let her have a play party in the yard,” explained Miss
Fuzzy Wuzzy. “Baby Bunty has been a good little girl lately, and when
she asked me if she couldn’t have a party, with real cakes and cookies,
I said yes. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, not at all. Not at all!” quickly cried Uncle Wiggily. “If Baby
Bunty has a party she won’t want me to chase her, or play tag, or go off
to the woods to keep young and from getting stiff. If she has a party I
can have a good sleep and rest.”
[Illustration: [Uncle Wiggily]]
“But you’ll come to her party a little while, won’t you?” asked Nurse
Jane. “Just look in to be polite, you know.”
“Oh, yes,” answered the rabbit gentleman. “I’ll just drop in for a cup
of tea.”
Baby Bunty was delighted to have a party. She danced around the hollow
stump bungalow and put on her best green yellow pink hair ribbon, making
Uncle Wiggily tie it for her.
“You’re a dear, good, old Uncle Wiggily,” said Baby Bunty. “You’ll come
to my party, won’t you?”
“Yes, but I just want to sit on a soft stump and watch you and the other
animal children play,” spoke Mr. Longears. “I’m getting too old and
stiff for parties!”
“We’ll see about that!” spoke Baby Bunty, with a funny little laugh.
Nurse Jane made the jam tarts, she frosted the cakes and she put fancy
trimmings on the cookies and pies.
“Now everything is ready for your party!” said the muskrat lady to Baby
Bunty. “Have you invited all your friends?”
“Yes, and Uncle Wiggily, too,” said the little rabbit girl, who was once
found asleep in a hollow stump.
The little party tables were set out under the grape vine, in the shade.
Pretty soon along came Sammie and Susie Littletail, the rabbits; Johnnie
and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels; Lulu, Alice and Jimmie
Wibblewobble, the ducks, and many others.
“Now, everybody sit down!” invited Baby Bunty, when they had gathered
around the tables, filled with good things. “Welcome to my party! Uncle
Wiggily, will you sing a little song?”
Uncle Wiggily, who wore his newest red vest, looked surprised. But still
he sang a song about once there was a carrot with a long and slender
tail, and when it went out walking it swam in the water pail.
“Now, everybody begin to eat!” invited Baby Bunty. “Oh, isn’t it fun to
have a party! Uncle Wiggily, please pass Jackie Bow Wow a puppy cake!”
Uncle Wiggily, who had picked out a nice shady corner, and was just
closing his eyes, opened them again, and passed the little doggie boy a
cake.
“I’ll just sit here quietly,” thought Uncle Wiggily to himself. “Pretty
soon they’ll all be so busy eating that they won’t notice me. Then I can
go to sleep and forget about my rheumatism.”
The animal children were laughing and talking, and also eating the good
things. Uncle Wiggily’s eyes were closed. He was dreaming he and Grandpa
Goosey Gander were playing Scotch checkers, when, all of a sudden, Baby
Bunty said:
“Uncle Wiggily, please pass Nannie Wagtail some paste pudding!”
“Eh! What’s that? Oh, I guess I had my eyes shut!” said the bunny
gentleman. But he passed the paste pudding to the little goat girl, and
he was just going to sleep again, when Bunty said:
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily! Do try some of these turnip jam tarts! They’re
wonderful!”
“Oh, yes. Jam tarts!” stammered the rabbit gentleman, awakening
suddenly. However, he managed to eat a tart, and he was almost asleep
again when Bunty suddenly said:
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily, will you please pass the rose leaf ice cream to
Arabella Chick!”
“Why, certainly,” said Uncle Wiggily, and he wondered if he would ever
get a nice, quiet nap, such as he had counted on. After he had passed
Lulu Wibblewobble some corn meal puddin’, the rabbit gentleman dozed off
again, but he was suddenly awakened when Baby Bunty cried:
“Oh, here they are! Here they come! Oh, look, everybody!”
“My goodness me, sakes alive and some fire engines!” cried Mr. Longears,
waking up so suddenly that he spilled some carrot marmalade on his red
vest. “What’s the matter, Baby Bunty? Is it the Pipsisewah and the
Skuddlemagoon come to spoil your party?”
“Why, no,” answered the little rabbit girl, sweetly. “It’s just the
grasshopper and the cricket musicians, who are coming to play for the
dancing. May I have a one-step with you, Uncle Wiggily?”
“Oh, Baby Bunty!” laughed Mr. Longears, as the grasshoppers tuned their
hind-leg fiddles. “No one could go to sleep at your party!”
“Nor grow old or stiff, either,” said Baby Bunty. Then they all had a
fine time. And if the jumping Jack doesn’t fall out of the salt cellar
and scare the coal man when he brings in the ice, I’ll tell you next
about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s skipping rope.
STORY XV
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BUNTY’S ROPE
“Uncle Wiggily, would you do me a little favor?” asked Baby Bunty one
morning, as she came out on the porch of the hollow stump bungalow,
where Mr. Longears, the rabbit gentleman, was reading the paper.
“Well, Baby Bunty!” said Uncle Wiggily, to the little rabbit girl, whom
he had found in a hollow stump tree, “I’d do almost anything for you,
but please don’t ask me to come to any more parties, or chase you or
play tag, or take you out in the woods with your rubber ball. I simply
can’t do that, for I am too old and stiff!”
“Oh, this isn’t anything like that. All I want is for you to come with
me while I buy a skipping rope. I want to learn to jump. All the other
animal girls jump salt and pepper and vinegar and mustard, and I, too,
want to learn.”
“Well,” said Uncle Wiggily, slowly, “that sounds like an easy favor.
I’ll come, Baby Bunty.” “She surely can’t make me jump rope,” said Mr.
Longears to himself. “I’m safe this time. I’ll get a chance to sleep
today.”
So, putting on his tall silk hat, and taking his red, white and blue
striped rheumatism crutch with him, Uncle Wiggily hopped with Baby Bunty
through the woods, to the ten and eleven cent store where wild grape
vine jumping, or skipping, ropes were sold.
“Give Baby Bunty a nice rope,” said Uncle Wiggily to the little mousie
girl clerk behind the counter, and the little rabbit girl soon had the
finest one you can imagine, with puff balls on the ends so her paws
wouldn’t slip off.
“Now I must learn to jump,” said Baby Bunty, as she and Uncle Wiggily
started back through the woods.
Baby Bunty had watched Lulu and Alice Wibblewobble, the ducks, and some
of the other animal girls skipping their wild grape vine ropes, so the
little rabbit girl knew something about it. She swung the rope over her
head and jumped “salt,” which is very slow jumping indeed.
“And while you are learning to skip rope, Baby Bunty,” said Uncle
Wiggily, “I’ll just sit down on this soft green mossy log and go to
sleep. You won’t mind, will you?”
“Oh, no,” answered Baby Bunty.
She found a nice, smooth place in the woods, where the green grass made
a velvet carpet, and there Baby Bunty began to learn to jump. Uncle
Wiggily’s pink nose stopped twinkling, and he fell asleep.
“Oh, dear!” said Baby Bunty, after a bit, “I never can learn all by
myself. I’m going to tie one end of my grape vine rope to a tree, and
ask Uncle Wiggily to turn the other end for me. Then I can learn to jump
and, after a while, I’ll be able to turn for myself.”
Gently she tickled Uncle Wiggily under the chin with a soft piece of
grass.
“Eh! What’s the matter? Mosquitoes?” cried the bunny gentleman, as he
sat up suddenly and opened his eyes.
“Oh, no,” answered Baby Bunty. “I’m sorry to wake you up, Uncle Wiggily,
but will you please turn rope for me? Just turn it salt, which is very
slowly, and perhaps you can do that and sleep at the same time.”
“Perhaps!” said Uncle Wiggily, but rather doubtful like. “We’ll try.”
So he took one end of the grape vine rope, while the other end was tied
to a tree, and Uncle Wiggily turned for Baby Bunty. He turned slowly, as
one must for “salt,” and Uncle Wiggily’s eyes were just closing, and he
was dozing off, when Baby Bunty said:
“Oh, could you please turn a little faster, Uncle Wiggily? I’m beginning
to learn how. Please turn as fast as pepper.”
“All right,” said Mr. Longears, good-natured like and accommodating. So
he turned faster—like pepper you know—and even at that he was soon
falling asleep again, when Bunty cried:
“Oh, I’m doing fine, Uncle Wiggily! I can even jump as fast as vinegar
now, if you’ll turn more quickly for me.”
“Well, I’ll turn faster,” said Mr. Longears. “But I can plainly see that
I’ll get no sleep today.”
So he turned “vinegar,” and Bunty jumped it easily, for she was fast
learning how. Even then Uncle Wiggily nodded, and was almost going to
sleep, when Bunty cried:
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily! Please turn mustard! Turn mustard fashion as fast as
you can! Wake up and turn mustard!”
“What’s this! Can you so soon jump as fast as mustard?” cried the bunny,
sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“Oh, no, I can’t jump mustard yet!” cried Bunty. “But I had to say
something to wake you up quickly. Look, here comes the bad Pipsisewah!
We must run! Run as fast as you can! Run mustard fashion!”
“I will!” said Uncle Wiggily, and he did, and so did Bunty, and by
running mustard, which is very fast, they soon got safely away from the
bad Pipsisewah.
“Hum!” said the Pip, as he was left behind in the woods. “If it hadn’t
been for Baby Bunty waking up Uncle Wiggily, I surely would have had his
souse!”
So it’s a good thing the little rabbit girl learned how to skip her
grape vine rope, isn’t it? And the next day she could jump mustard. And
if the automobile doesn’t go swimming in with the gold fish and make the
poll parrot sleep in the cat’s cradle, I’ll tell you next about Uncle
Wiggily and Bunty’s scooter.