Bramble Patch. The rain was falling and the Sunny Meadow wasn’t the
least bit sunny. No, indeed. The Bubbling Brook was making a great
fuss as it rushed along, sometimes overflowing its banks and making
little lakes in the hollow spaces.
“Ker dunk! ker dunk!” croaked Granddaddy Bullfrog from his log in the
Old Duck Pond. He didn’t mind the rain. His rubber coat kept him nice
and dry. As for his shoes, I guess he’d never outgrown his boyhood’s
delight in bare legs.
Down from the Farmyard waddled Duckey Waddles on his big wide wabbly
yellow feet. He loved the wet weather, oh, my yes. Pretty soon he
went in for a swim, now and then, and sometimes oftener, standing on
his head in the water to catch a little minnow.
“Quack, quack!” he shouted in answer to Granddaddy Bullfrog’s solemn
“Ker dunk, ker dunk!”
Up at the Farmyard Cocky Doodle, Henny Jenny, Goosey Lucy and Turkey
Tim stood out of the wet under the old cowshed, wondering how long
Mr. Merry Sun would hide behind the gray rain clouds.
On the top of the Big Red Barn the weathercock turned to and fro on
his gilded toe, for Billy Breeze was blowing across the open spaces,
now sending the clouds helter-skelter over the sky, now bending the
dripping bushes or shaking the raindrops from the apple trees.
“I wish you’d let me point to the West,” sighed the Weathercock.
“Then it would soon clear up.”
“Maybe I will,” answered Billy Breeze, and all of a sudden he blew
away a dark cloud and out came Mr. Merry Sun with a smile.
“Hurray!” shouted the Weathercock, swinging about on his toe to point
to the West. “Now we’ll have a beautiful day.”
“I think so,” laughed Little Jack Rabbit, hopping out of his pretty
white bungalow and down the narrow path through the rough brambles to
the Sunny Meadow.
Just then who should come along but Timmie Meadowmouse. My, but he
was glad to see the lovely sunshine.
“Howdy! Have you heard the news?” he asked.
“What news?” asked the little rabbit, curiously, thinking, “Goodness
me! Something dreadful has happened,” as he twinked his little pink
nose and winked his two big pink eyes.
“Stop!” cried the tiny meadowmouse, “you make me so dizzy, I can’t
think.”
“All right,” replied the little rabbit, “but hurry. I’m afraid
something has happened to Chippy Chipmunk or the Big Brown Bear.”
“Not a bit of it,” answered Timmie Meadowmouse, taking off his
little fur cap. All of a sudden, quick as a flash, or a smash or a
dash, down from the sky swooped Hungry Hawk.
“Look out!” shouted the little rabbit, hopping under a bush. But,
dear me! The tiny meadowmouse was just a second too late. The next
minute up in the air he went, held tightly in the cruel claws of the
old hawk.
“Help! help!” shouted poor frightened Timmie Meadowmouse, as higher
and higher flew the big feathered robber until pretty soon he looked
like a tiny speck in the sky.
“How can I save my little friend?” cried the unhappy bunny boy. But
nobody answered him, not even Billy Breeze, who is such a good friend
to all the little people of the Shady Forest and the Sunny Meadow.
The anxious little rabbit looked this way and that way, but all he
could see was a tiny speck in the blue sky as the old robber bird
flew swiftly away.
Just then the bunny boy noticed another speck in the sky, only larger
and of a different shape.
“What is that?” he asked himself, hoping it might be the kind
American Eagle who had once befriended him.
But no, it was not. No, indeed, it was something very, very
different. Oh, my, yes, I should say so.
As there was nothing to be gained by standing still on the Sunny
Meadow, the dis-con-so-late (which means hopelessly unhappy, little
readers) bunny boy rabbit hopped away until, all of a sudden, just
like that, he almost bumped into the Farmer’s Boy, who was holding a
long string that rose up and up and up into the air until it ended in
a queer shaped something with a long tail that swung to and fro as
Billy Breeze laughed and whistled across the white cloud meadows of
the sky.
Yes, sir, Little Jack Rabbit almost bumped into the Farmer’s Boy. You
see, the little bunny, looking up into the sky as he hopped along,
had paid little attention to his feet.
“Hello!” exclaimed the Farmer’s Boy. “Your eyes are filled with
tears. What’s the matter, little rabbit?”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” cried the little bunny. “Hungry Hawk has
carried off little Timmie Meadowmouse.”
“Where to?” asked the Farmer’s Boy, curiously.
“Do you see that little speck?” asked the sorrowful little rabbit,
pointing upward.
“Yes,” answered the Farmer’s Boy. “Just to the right of my kite. Yes,
I see it.”
“That’s Hungry Hawk,” sobbed the little bunny boy. “He has Timmie
Meadowmouse in his claws.”
“I’m sorry,” answered the Farmer’s Boy, and then, all of a sudden, he
started to run across the Sunny Meadow, pulling in the kite string at
the same time. For a moment Little Jack Rabbit was too surprised to
move. Then away he hopped after the Farmer’s Boy. You see, the little
bunny was so sorry for the poor little mouse that he forgot all about
his fear of the Farmer’s Boy. Yes, indeed, that’s what sorrow does
sometimes, and maybe oftener. When we are sorry for some one else we
often forget our own troubles.
By the time the little rabbit had caught up to the Farmer’s Boy there
was a great commotion going on ’way up in the big blue sky. Oh, my,
yes. I tell you what, that Farmer’s Boy was a clever fellow. He
hadn’t lived on a farm all his life for nothing. No, indeed. He had
taught himself things which the old schoolmaster never dreamed of as
he sat at his desk in the little red school house on the hill, where
the children’s feet were never still. My, how strangely that boy
behaved! Suddenly he would dash off to the right, then away to the
left; then backward, next forward, sometimes letting out the string,
or winding it up again.
“What is he doing?” thought the little bunny boy, gazing up into the
sky at the big kite, which seemed only a trifle larger than Hungry
Hawk. Oh, dear, I’m so worried for fear that poor little mouse will
be eaten by that dreadful old robber bird.
All of a sudden the Farmer’s Boy, with a yell of delight, started to
run backward as fast as he could go. “I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” he
kept shouting, as he pulled in the kite, hand over hand.
“What do you mean?” asked Little Jack Rabbit, all a-tremble, hopping
about on one leg.
“I’ve caught the old hawk in my kite! I’m pulling him down, you
betcher!” answered the Farmer’s Boy, as he carefully pulled in the
string hand over hand, taking care to keep the string taut lest
by a sudden slip backward the kite might untangle itself from the
struggling bird. As the good home-made, brown paper kite slowly
descended the little rabbit boy could make out the figure of Hungry
Hawk pressed tight against the frame, his wings entangled in the
face-strings.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Farmer’s Boy. “If I only had four hands and my
gun along, I’d shoot the old bird from here.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” cried the little bunny boy rabbit. “You might hit
Timmie Meadowmouse.”
“Like enough. Never thought about it,” answered the Farmer’s Boy.
“Mebbe it’s just as well the old gun is home.”
By this time the kite was just overhead. Billy Breeze was helping all
he could. He blew hard and strong, with a steady pressure, keeping
the big brown paper kite from dipping. Maybe he was laughing at the
old robber bird! Just then a little black figure dropped on a pile of
hay on the Sunny Meadow.
“It’s Timmie Meadowmouse!” shouted the little bunny boy, but the
Farmer’s Boy was so intent on his job he never turned his head. No,
siree. He had all he could do to manage the kite. Frantically beating
his wings, the old hawk wiggled and jiggled, this way and that,
vainly trying to free himself from the clinging tied-together pieces
of rags that formed the rudder to the big brown kite.
But, dear me! Just as the Farmer’s Boy reached up to grasp the fierce
bird, either Billy Breeze forgot himself, or the good old kite could
stand the strain no longer, or something gave way, a string or two,
maybe a knot. All of a sudden, with a wiggle and jiggle, Hungry Hawk
slipped out and sailed away, up and up, across the Big Red Barn to
the freedom of the open sky.
Yes, away he went. And, oh, dear me!
I’m sorry that crafty old bird is free,
Much like a trouble that’s over to-day
With another one waiting us over the way.
But mother will teach you what to do,
So don’t be afraid of a trouble or two.
[Illustration: “Hello” exclaimed the Farmer’s Boy]
BUNNY TALE 8
INVITATIONS
“Have you heard the news?” asked the Old Brown Horse.
“What news?” enquired Little Jack Rabbit, hopping along with the
friendly steed under the warm rays of Mr. Merry Sun in the Big Blue
Sky.
“Why, the circus is at Turnip City,” answered the Old Brown Horse.
“The Circus Elephant, the funny clowns, and the roller skating bears.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” exclaimed the little rabbit. “I want to see them.”
“You don’t mean to say you’ve never been to the circus!” whinnied the
good Old Horse. “Well, you’ve got a treat.”
“Oh, take me to the Circus
To see the elephants dance!
Oh, take me to the Circus
Where the horses neigh and prance;
Where all the clowns make funny jokes
And try to tease the Circus Folks,”
begged the little bunny, hopping back into the Old Bramble Patch.
“So you’d like to go to the circus, eh?” asked Mr. Rabbit, winking at
Lady Love, who was making Turnip Tea for Old Mrs. Bunny.
[Illustration: “Heard the news?” asked the Old Brown Horse.]
“Please take me,” begged the little rabbit.
“All right, I’ll hire the Billy Goat Stage Coach to take us, and
maybe a few friends,” answered Mr. Rabbit, and up he hopped to call
dear Uncle Lucky on the telephone:
“Central, give me Clover Dell,
One, two, three, ring Happy Bell.”
“Hello, hello, who’s calling me?
The wire’s buzzing like a bee,”
answered the old gentleman rabbit.
“Listen, Uncle Lucky! I’m hiring the Billy Goat Stage Coach to take
us all to your circus at Turnip City,” explained Mr. Rabbit.
“Well, I’ll come over with a bushel of passes,” answered the dear
generous old gentleman bunny. “What time do you go?”
“At seven o’clock to-morrow morning. We must get an early start,”
answered Mr. Rabbit.
“Now, whom shall we invite?” he enquired, turning to his small bunny
son, who was hopping about, so happy to know he was going to the
circus to see the animals and the clowns, and maybe a monkey and a
bear and a Mexican dog without any hair.
“Whom shall we invite?” repeated Mr. Rabbit.
“All your friends and all my friends, and maybe some more,” answered
the bunny boy with a hop, skip and jump out on the porch of the
little white house in the Old Bramble Patch.
Just then the little canary bird in her gold cage began to twitter:
“The birds within the Shady Wood
And on the Meadow Green,
Are building nests of twigs and strings
And moss pressed in between.
But I’m content within my cage
To sing my sweetest song.
For discontent, my little boy,
Will often set you wrong.”
“I’m not discontented,” replied the little bunny boy, “I’m happy.
Father is going to take me to the circus,” and he hopped down the
path through the bramble bushes.
“Timmie Meadowmouse, Timmie Meadowmouse!”
“What do you want?” asked the tiny mouse, peeking out of his little
round house of woven grass.
“Want to go to the circus? Father is going to hire the Billy Goat
Stage. We start at 7 to-morrow morning.”
“I’ll be up bright and early,” answered Timmie Meadowmouse, darting
back into his little house to get out his best Sunday-go-to-meeting
suit.
“Timmie Meadowmouse will go,” cried Little Jack Rabbit, hopping back
into the house.
“Nobody will refuse, I imagine,” laughed Lady Love. “Whom else have
you invited?”
“I’m going over to the Barnyard,” answered Little Jack Rabbit. “I’ll
invite everybody I meet,” and off he hopped. By and by, after a
while, but not nearly a mile, he spied Granddaddy Bullfrog on his big
log near the bank of the Old Duck Pond.
“Oh, Granddaddy Bullfrog! Father is going to hire the Billy Goat
Stage Coach to take us all to the circus to-morrow morning. We start
at 7, right after breakfast. Will you come along?”
“To be sure I will,” answered the old frog. “I haven’t been to the
circus for a long time. Hurrah! I’ll be a kid again and eat a ton of
peanuts—maybe!”
“Be at the Old Bramble Patch on time,” shouted the little rabbit, who
by this time was half across the Sunny Meadow on his merry way.
“Hello, hello! What brings you here?”
Asked the Weathercock from on high.
Always first to spy anything
With his wonderful lookout eye.
“I’m inviting all my friends to the circus,” replied the little
bunny, with a happy laugh. “We all leave to-morrow morning at 7,
right after breakfast. Where’s Cocky Doodle?”
“Here I am,” crowed the little rooster. “I heard you. I’ll go to the
circus. Many thanks.”
“Cackle, cackle, what do you think,
This morning the sky was yellow and pink.
Mr. Merry Sun was just out of bed—
His nightcap crinkled all over his head,”
cackled Henny Jenny, who had just laid a pretty white egg in her
little round nest.
“Will you come to my circus party?” asked Little Jack Rabbit. “We
start to-morrow morning at seven from the Old Bramble Patch. Father
has hired the Billy Goat Stage Coach to take us all to Uncle Lucky’s
Circus at Turnip City.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll wear my nicest dress
And my pinky coral comb.
You’ll surely bring me back again,
For it’s very far from home.”
“Of course we will,” answered Little Jack Rabbit.
“Don’t forget me,” cried Goosey Lucy.
“Will you come?” asked the little bunny.
“To be sure,” answered the nice lady goose. “Don’t forget Ducky
Waddles.”
“Where is he?” asked the bunny boy, looking here and there and
everywhere.
“He went for a swim in the Old Duck Pond,” answered Henny Jenny.
“Why, I just came from there,” replied the little bunny. “I didn’t
see him. I saw only Granddaddy Bullfrog.”
“Well, you see him now,” quacked a familiar voice, and there stood
Ducky Waddles himself. He had just waddled around from behind the Big
Red Barn.
“Will you come to my circus party?” asked Little Jack Rabbit.
“I couldn’t refuse,” laughed the nice little duck.
Now, I wonder next who will be invited to the Circus. Listen, and
you shall hear, for the little bunny has just hopped around the Big
Haystack.
“Mrs. Cow, won’t you come to the circus?”
“Where is it?” enquired that nice lady cow, whipping her tail to and
fro to scare away the flies. “I can’t go far for my little baby calf
needs me ’most all the time.”
“At Turnip City,” answered Little Jack Rabbit.
“Oh, dear! You must excuse me,” replied Mrs. Cow. “That’s too far
away. I’ll wait for Uncle Lucky’s Circus to come to Rabbitville. But
thank you, just the same.”
“Now, who else?” thought the little bunny, when, all of a sudden, he
spied Turkey Tim.
“Won’t you come to my circus party?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered the big turkey gobbler. “What time, and
where, and how?”
“To-morrow morning at seven o’clock we all go in the Billy Goat Stage
Coach. Be on time at the Old Bramble Patch,” and away hopped Little
Jack Rabbit, his long ears catching the turkey gobbler’s poetry
answer:
“I’ll be there before it’s seven,
I’ll be first of the umpty-’leven.”
Pretty soon the little bunny spied Squirrel Nutcracker in his gray
fur suit, sitting on a tree stump in the Shady Forest.
“Oh, won’t you be glad when you hear what I’m going to say,” laughed
the rabbit boy.
“Hurry up and tell me,” cried the curious squirrel.
“I’m giving a circus party,” answered Little Jack Rabbit. “And we’ve
hired the Billy Goat Stage Coach to take us all down to the circus at
Turnip City. Want to come along?”
[Illustration: “Well, I guess yes three times!”]
“Well, I guess yes three times!” answered Squirrel Nutcracker,
springing up from the log to dance about on his hind legs. “It’s a
whole year since I’ve been to the circus.”
“Well then, be at the Old Bramble Patch to-morrow morning at seven,”
replied the little bunny, and away he went, clipperty clip, lipperty
lip, up the winding trail to the cave of the Big Brown Bear.
“Hello, hello!” shouted the little rabbit.
“What’s the matter?” enquired a deep, growly voice, and Mr. Bear came
to the door, over which hung a big sign;
LOLLYPOPS AND HONEY.
“What can I do for you, bunny boy?
Do you wish a lollypop for a toy?”
he asked, his growly voice changing into a nice friendly voice on
seeing the little bunny.
“I’d like a lollypop,” answered the little rabbit, “but I don’t want
to play with it—I’ll eat it.”
“All right,” laughed the Big Brown Bear, shuffling into his cave for
a yellow lollypop with little raisins on the top.
“I’m giving a circus party,” explained the bunny boy, sitting down
beside the Big Brown Bear. “Want to come?”
“Well, I should say so,” answered the big kind animal. “I have a
cousin who skates on wheels in Uncle Lucky’s circus. I’d like to see
him.”
“Well then, be at the Old Bramble Patch to-morrow at seven in the
early morning. We’re all going in the Billy Goat Stage Coach. Won’t
we have fun?”
“More fun than a bagful of monkeys,” answered the Big Brown Bear,
filling his pipe with dry corncob silk and puffing away for maybe a
minute and maybe more, while the smoke curled up to the top of the
door.
“Who else is going?”
“Oh, everybody,” answered Little Jack Rabbit. “Granddaddy Bullfrog,
Henny Jenny, Cocky Doodle, Turkey Tim, Goosey Lucy, Ducky Waddles,
Timmie Meadowmouse, Chippy Chipmunk, and lots more whom I haven’t yet
invited.”
“Will the Billy Goat Stage Coach hold them all?” asked the Big Brown
Bear re-flec-tive-ly, which means “thinking it over,” dear little
boys and girls.
“I guess so,” answered Little Jack Rabbit. “Some can sit on top and
some under the seats and some on the seats, and—oh, yes, I’m sure it
will hold us all.”
“All right, I’ll be on time, for
I love the clowns and the sawdust ring,
In fact, I love ’most everything
That’s in the circus and round about;
The lion’s roar and the elephant’s shout,
The pistol shot and the cracking whip,
And the chariot driver’s furious clip,”
sang the Big Brown Bear.
“I’ll be looking for you,” said the little rabbit, as he hopped away
to invite more of his Shady Forest friends. In a little while he came
to the Forest Pool. There sat Busy Beaver on the mud roof of his
little house, happy and contented, for the day was warm and bright
and he had slumbered well all night.
On seeing the little rabbit, he dived into the water and swam over to
the bank.
“Hello, what brings you here?” he asked, for something in the little
rabbit’s manner told him there was a surprise in store.
“Give you three guesses,” laughed the little bunny. “Three guesses
and then two more.”
“Danny Fox been caught?”
“No,” answered Little Jack Rabbit.
“Mr. Wicked Weasel in jail?”
“No,” answered Little Jack Rabbit.
“Chippy Chipmunk has the measles?”
“No,” replied Little Jack Rabbit, with a shake of his head.
“Well, what is it, then?” asked Busy Beaver.
“Circus Party!” shouted the little bunny. “I’m giving a circus party
at Turnip City. Have you been to Uncle Lucky’s Circus?”
“Not yet,” replied the little beaver.
“Be sure to come to the Old Bramble Patch at seven to-morrow morning.
We’re all going down in the Billy Goat Stage Coach. So be on time and
don’t forget, for we’ll have a jolly time, you bet,” and away hopped
the little rabbit to invite other friends in the Shady Forest.
In a little while, not so very far, he met Peter Possum and his
family.
“Won’t you all come to my circus party?” asked the bunny boy.
“What time?” enquired the old Possum.
“To-morrow morning at seven the Billy Goat Stage Coach will be at the
Old Bramble Patch. So be on time and don’t be late, for we’ll not
have a minute to wait,” shouted the little rabbit, hopping swiftly
away to find another friend, and maybe two, for his circus party.
“I wonder whether Professor Crow would like to come,” thought the
little bunny. “Maybe he’ll be pleased to be invited. Anyway, there’s
no harm in asking him.”
“What’s the matter? Any one ill?
Doctor Quack has a wonderful pill,”
shouted the old Professor Bird looking out of his window as the bunny
boy knocked on the tiny door in the Tall Pine Tree.
“I don’t need Dr. Quack, the famous duck doctor,” he answered. “I’m
giving a circus party. Won’t you and Mrs. Crow and Blackie Crow
come? We start to-morrow morning at seven right after breakfast from
the Old Bramble Patch. The Billy Goat Stage Coach will take us all
to Turnip City where the circus people are giving a show. I’m sure
little Blackie will love to go.”
“We all will,” answered Professor Crow. “It makes me feel young again
just to think of it. Thank you. We’ll be on time.”
BUNNY TALE 9
THE CIRCUS
Goodness gracious me! That Billy Goat Stage Coach will be dreadfully
crowded if Little Jack Rabbit invites many more friends to his circus
party. Of course, when you come to think it over, the birds can perch
on the roof and the little animals crawl under the seats; maybe one
or two might sit with the stage coach driver, the nice Old Dog who
smokes a big pipe while holding the reins in his left paw and the
whip in his right. Oh, he’s a good driver, so kind and gentle that
the billy goat team will do anything for him.
“Dear me, I mustn’t forget a single friend,” thought the little
rabbit, as he hopped over the Bubbling Brook and across the Sunny
Meadow to the Old Brush Heap.
Up the well-worn little path he hurried, clipperty clip, lipperty
lip, to Cousin Cottontail’s little bungalow under the trailing green
vines.
“Cousin Cottontail,” he shouted, “where are you?”
“We’re here,” came the answer, and out popped all the little
cottontails, one after another—five in all, their pink noses
twinkling like so many little stars.
“I’m giving a circus party to-morrow,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “Want
to come?”
Gracious me! I don’t see why he thought it necessary to ask five
little bunnies if they wanted to go to the circus!
“Of course we do,” they all shouted at once, which brought Mrs.
Cottontail to the door to find out what all the noise was about.
“What time do you start?” she asked.
“At seven to-morrow morning. We all go in the Billy Goat Stage
Coach,” explained Little Jack Rabbit. “Please be on time, for if we
don’t get an early start we may not reach Turnip City in time to see
the Grand Parade of all the Queer People.”
“We’ll be over bright and early,” promised Mrs. Cottontail. “Don’t
you worry about us. Maybe some of your other friends will keep you
waiting, but not your old auntie.”
Pretty soon she brought out an apronful of nice cookies, just hot out
of the oven.
Oh, what a nice feast all the little rabbits had! Nor did they forget
to save the crumbs for Bobbie Redvest, who happened to pass by later
on.
“Well, I guess I must be going,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit, when the
last cookie was gone. “Mother will worry if I’m late for supper.”
And away he hopped, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, down the little
path under the Big Brush Heap and across the Pleasant Meadow to the
Bubbling Brook, over which he hopped to the Sunny Meadow. At last he
was safe home in the dear Old Bramble Patch, eating a nice supper of
stewed lollypops.
It seemed to him that he had hardly jumped into bed and fallen asleep
when:
“Wake up, wake up! It’s almost time
For the Billy Goat Stage to be here.
Will I have to climb to your little bedroom
And shout it out loud in your ear?”
sang the cuckoo bird from her pretty clock house.
Out of bed hopped Lady Love and Mr. Rabbit; off came Grandma Bunny’s
night cap, and in less time than I can take to tell it they were all
dressed and in the kitchen, eating a breakfast of lollypop porridge,
turnip tea and carrot cakes with maple syrup.
“All aboard for Turnip Town
To see the elephant and the clown;
It’s miles and miles to Turnip Square,
We must start now if we want to get there,”
all of a sudden barked the Old Dog Driver atop the Billy Goat Stage
Coach.
“Wait a minute,” begged Grandmother Magpie.
“I’m coming,” panted the Big Brown Bear.
“Here I am,” called out Granddaddy Bullfrog.
“I’m on time,” laughed Cousin Cottontail, with her five little
bunnies hopping after her.
“Who said I was late?” cackled Henny Jenny.
“Good morning, I’m here,” said Turkey Tim.
“Is there room enough for me?” asked Timmie Meadowmouse.
“I’ll sit on top,” sang Bobbie Redvest.
“So will I,” said Squirrel Nutcracker.
“And that’s where I’ll sit,” said pretty Mrs. Oriole.
“I’m with you,” cawed Professor Jim Crow, seating himself with his
family.
“Room for one more?” asked Ducky Waddles.
“I was nearly late,” cried Cocky Doodle.
“Let me squeeze in,” crowed the Old Red Rooster.