Well, next morning Mr. Crow was down stairs bright and early, putting
the big parlor room in order and setting the table. Pretty soon the
'Coon and 'Possum came down, too, and helped him, and now and then, when
they happened to look at each other across the table, they would wink
and smile, but they didn't say a word. By and by the three pies were
brought in and set in a row at one end of the table, and nobody could
tell from looking at them but what they were exactly as the Crow had
baked them.
[Illustration: MR. RABBIT CAME IN CARRYING A LARGE BUNCH OF EARLY
FLOWERS.]
Just then there was a knock down stairs, and Mr. Rabbit came in carrying
a large bunch of early flowers that he had gathered as he came along,
and dressed in his new spring suit. They saw a little white roll in one
of his coat pockets, too, and they knew it was a poem for the occasion,
for Jack Rabbit writes poems whenever he gets a chance, specially in the
early springtime.
Mr. Crow hurried out and got the pair of pink glass vases that Mr.
'Coon had given him for Christmas and put the flowers in them for the
table, while he asked Jack Rabbit if it was muddy walking and if he had
seen anything of Mr. Turtle.
[Illustration: MR. TURTLE HIMSELF WADDLED IN.]
[Illustration: LEFT THE OTHERS TO SIT AROUND THE TABLE AND TALK.]
Mr. Rabbit said that the ground was rather damp, but that he could pick
his way pretty well, and that he had never seen such a wet spring since
the year that the Wide Blue Water came up over his back garden and
drowned his early pease. He hadn't seen Mr. Turtle, but just then Mr.
Turtle himself waddled in with a basket of nice water salad, which he
had gathered before starting. Then Mr. Crow hurried off to put his
biscuits in the oven and left the others to sit around the table and
talk.
After they had talked about the weather and told the latest things that
had happened to Mr. Dog, who lived with Mr. Man, and whom none of them
liked very well, the 'Possum said all at once that being this was April
First he shouldn't wonder if it was to be a sort of surprise party in
some way.
That made Mr. Turtle and Jack Rabbit curious right away, and they wanted
to know what kind of a surprise he thought it was going to be and if he
thought it would be a pleasant one. Mr. 'Possum said he was sure it
would be pleasant, and then he looked at the three fine pies on the
table and said it was just as apt to be in one of those pies as
anywhere. Then Mr. Turtle said he'd heard of "four and twenty blackbirds
baked in a pie," and how they began to sing when the pie was opened, but
he hoped it wouldn't be that kind of a surprise, for he didn't care
much for blackbirds himself, specially in pies. The 'Possum said there
might be one black bird sing when these pies were opened, but he didn't
b'lieve there'd be any more, which made the 'Coon laugh so he nearly
fell off his chair. Just then they heard the Crow coming, and the
'Possum whispered quick to the Turtle and the Rabbit that they must be
sure and eat their pie all up and ask for more, as Mr. Crow was proud of
his cooking and always felt offended when people didn't eat heartily.
Well, Mr. Crow came in carrying a great pan of fine biscuits and set
them down in the middle of the table, while everybody said, "What lovely
biscuits!" and asked whether they were made with buttermilk or baking
powder, and wanted his recipe. Mr. Crow said he didn't have any recipe,
but just took a pinch of this and a pinch of that, and that there was a
good deal in the knack and in having things come natural, just as it was
natural for Mr. Rabbit to write poetry. Then he said he hoped Mr. Rabbit
hadn't forgotten to think up a few thoughts for this occasion, and Mr.
Rabbit said that he had been too busy with spring work to write much
lately, but that he did have a few lines in his pocket that they might
be willing to listen to. So then he took out the roll he had brought and
put on his glasses and stood up, while all the others sat still and
listened.
[Illustration]
Oh, sweet the month of April,
When birds begin to twitter!
When dewdrops on the clover
And tender grasses glitter!
When every shoot of lettuce
That from the ground arises
Gives promise of a salad--
Oh, month of sweet surprises!
You see Mr. Rabbit is a great gardener, and specially fond of young
clover and tender salad.
Oh, sweet the month of April,
When youthful chicks are hatching,
And gayly in the meadows
Around their ma are scratching!
The finest way to eat them
In dumpling or in pies is--
Oh, here's to you, sweet April,
With all your glad surprises!
Mr. Rabbit knew that the Crow would have chicken either in dumpling or
pies, and anyhow he needed "pies is" to rhyme with "surprises," and when
he came to those lines and sat down the others shouted and laughed and
Mr. Crow pounded on the table and declared he couldn't have done better
if he'd been a poet and written it himself! And the 'Coon and the
'Possum both pounded too and said "That's so! That's so!"
Then Mr. Crow shoved the R. T. pie over between Jack Rabbit and Mr.
Turtle and the pie that was marked P. C. between the 'Coon and the
'Possum. The C. X. pie he pulled up in front of himself, for of course
he never even suspected that the top crust on them had been changed by
the 'Possum.
The finest way to eat them
In dumpling or in pies is--
he said, quoting Mr. Rabbit's poem,
Oh, here's to you, sweet April,
With all your glad surprises!
[Illustration: MR. TURTLE WAS WATCHING HIM PRETTY ANXIOUSLY.]
Then he told them not to be bashful, but to help themselves and remember
there was plenty more where that came from. Just as he said this he
picked up his knife and stuck it down deep into the C. X. pie. Mr.
'Possum picked up his knife and stuck it down deep into the P. C. pie,
and Mr. Rabbit picked up his knife and stuck it into the R. T. pie and
cut it in half. Mr. Turtle was watching him pretty anxiously, for he
remembered what the 'Possum had said about a surprise, but when Jack
Rabbit laid a smoking half with the gravy running out of it on his plate
he forgot all about everything else.
[Illustration: THEN, ALL OF A SUDDEN, HE DIDN'T WANT TO LAUGH ANY MORE.]
Mr. 'Possum didn't divide the P. C. pie just yet, but kept cutting as if
it cut very hard, and talking a good deal while he cut. He said that,
speaking of surprises, it used to be quite a fashion to fool people on
the first of April, and that he'd known lots of the biggest kind of
jokes played on people that day. The biggest jokes, though, he said,
were those that came back on the people who played them, and that he
knew one of that kind once that made him laugh now every time he thought
about it. Then he did laugh some, and sawed away and said he guessed
he'd struck a bone; and the 'Coon laughed, too, and Mr. Crow was nearly
dying with trying to keep from laughing, for he thought Mr. 'Possum was
sawing away on an old stick. He didn't want to let on, though, so he
quit looking and commenced cutting his own pie. He laughed to himself
and cut a minute, and then, all of a sudden, he didn't want to laugh any
more, for he had cut a hole in the top of the C. X. pie and he saw
something and smelled something that made him right sick. He looked over
quick to Mr. 'Possum's plate, and what he saw there made him sicker yet.
For there lay a half of the P. C. pie, and Mr. Crow saw with one look
that it was just as fine a chicken pie as ever came out of an oven.
Mr. 'Coon had a piece on his plate, too, and they were saying what a
fine pie it was, and Mr. Turtle and Mr. Rabbit said so, too, and that
Mr. Crow was certainly the finest cook in those parts.