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.
[Illustration: “Fighting it out between them.”]
“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.
[Illustration: “To be sure I will” answered the old frog.]
“No, sir!” answered the cruel hawk. “I’m going to take you home to
my wife,” and up he flew in the air. But, goodness me! He soon found
out what a heavy thing a turtle is. Pretty soon the old hawk’s wings
grew tired. Oh, very weary, indeed.
“I must rest,” he said to himself, turning toward an old dead tree
near the edge of the Shady Forest.
“Let me go! Let me go!” again and again begged Teddy Turtle.
“Be still, will you?” answered the old robber bird, doing his best to
keep his balance on the limb of the dead tree and at the same time
hold on to the wiggly jiggly little turtle.
“No, I won’t,” answered Teddy Turtle, with another wiggle and a
jiggle, and maybe a wiggle-jiggle-jiggle after that.
But, try as he might, he couldn’t wiggle loose from the bad hawk’s
claws. Pretty soon the old bird flew off again with the little turtle.
“Wiggle, jiggle all you can.
Wiggle like a wrestling man.
Keep on wiggling till you’re free,
Wiggle like a jumping flea,”
shouted Billy Breeze.
“Stop talking to Teddy Turtle,” screamed Hungry Hawk, by this time
out of breath and nearly ready to drop.
“Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!” again shouted Billy Breeze.
Then Teddy Turtle wiggled and jiggled and jiggled and wiggled until
all of a sudden, just like that, Hungry Hawk couldn’t hold him a
minute longer. Down dropped the little turtle right into the Bubbling
Brook and off went Hungry Hawk to rest his weary wings in a near-by
tree.
“Look out for him when he’s rested,” whispered Billy Breeze.
“I’ll swim away,” answered Teddy Turtle, and down the stream he went
as fast as he could go. Pretty soon he came to a nice deep place
under a shelving bank. Here he hid for a long time. And maybe he
would be hiding there yet if Billy Breeze hadn’t been on the lookout.
“The old hawk has flown away,” he whispered, dancing over the tall
water grass that stood barefoot in the cool water.
“Are you sure?” asked the little turtle, anxiously. “I don’t want to
be caught again. Dear me, but my neck is scratched. Hungry Hawk has
sharp claws.”
“Oh, yes, he’s gone. He’s flown away. Maybe he’s home by this time,”
answered Billy Breeze.
Teddy Turtle waited a few minutes longer, then swam boldly down the
Bubbling Brook towards the Shady Forest. “Dear me, it’s a long way to
Busy Beaver’s home, but I’ll be safe there, I know.”
BUNNY TALE 25
LUCKYMOBILING
Heigh ho, how the winds blow
This cool November day.
The leaves are turning yellow and red
And the clouds are scurrying overhead
Like little ships out on the bay.
“That’s a beautiful poem,” thought Uncle Lucky, looking up from his
morning paper as Reddy Comb, the rooster newsboy, strutted away.
Just then Little Jack Rabbit came hopping up the path.
“Let’s make a call on somebody,” suddenly suggested the old gentleman
bunny.
“All right, but not on Grandmother Magpie,” answered the bunny boy,
climbing into the Luckymobile.
“No, indeed,” replied kind Uncle Lucky. “She’s too meddlesome.”
Quickly turning down a road leading away from the Shady Forest, in
which the old lady magpie had her home, they soon came to a little
log hut in a cornfield.
“I wonder who lives there,” exclaimed the old gentleman rabbit. “I
never saw that little house before,” and stopping the Luckymobile,
he hopped over to the little log hut to knock on the door. The next
moment it was opened by their friend, the Scarecrow.
“Well, well, well,” he cried. “I’m glad to see you. Come in and sit
down.”
[Illustration: Reddy Comb, the rooster newsboy.]
“I’ll be back in a minute,” shouted Uncle Lucky to his bunny nephew.
But imagine the old gentleman rabbit’s surprise to find Turkey Tim in
the little log hut.
“What, you here!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky. All of a sudden poor Turkey
Tim began to cry.
“He’s afraid of Thanksgiving,” explained the Scarecrow. “But I’ll
hide him here till Spring.”
“Dear, oh, dear!” gasped astonished Uncle Lucky. “I’m glad you’re so
kind. Dearest me, I’m flustered! I didn’t know you lived here.”
“To be sure I do now that summer time is over,” answered the
Scarecrow. “You don’t think I’d stay out in the cornfield all winter?”
“Yes, what would be the use?” agreed Uncle Lucky. “Besides, you might
catch your death of cold.”
“That’s just it,” answered the Scarecrow.
“My clothes are very old and worn
And one of the pockets badly torn.
The wind would blow through a hole in my coat
And give me a terrible frog in my throat.”
“Come with us,” invited Uncle Lucky. “It’s a beautiful day for a
ride. Don’t you think so?”
With a happy smile, the Scarecrow took down his old hat from the
wooden peg behind the door and, pinning his coat around him, for the
buttons were all gone, you know, told Turkey Tim he’d be back shortly.
As soon as dear Uncle Lucky had honked the horn three times and a
half, away they went down to the Three-in-One Cent Store to buy a
toothbrush. You see, the Scarecrow had forgotten all about it when
moving into the little log hut in the middle of the cornfield.
“And now where shall we go?” asked Uncle Lucky, as the Scarecrow
once more seated himself in the Luckymobile, for it hadn’t taken him
nearly as long to buy the toothbrush as it had his last Liberty Bond!
“Let’s call on the Tailor Bird. We ought to get measured for our
winter overcoats.” So they turned down a road leading to Birdville, a
pretty little town not far away. Well, by and by, after a mile and a
laugh and a smile, they came to the Tailor Bird’s Shop on the corner
of Twitter Avenue and Chirp Street. There on a little bench in front
of the store, sat the Tailor Bird himself, although it was the first
of November.
No sooner did this in-dus-tri-ous bird see the two little rabbits in
the Luckymobile than he began to sing:
“Stitch, stitch, stitch away,
I’m busy sewing all the day
I hardly have a chance to sing.
My needle uses up the string
So fast I haven’t time to play.
Why, I can’t even stop to say,
‘Good Morning, it’s a pleasant day!’”
And the Tailor Bird made his needle go so fast that Uncle Lucky
couldn’t tell on whose overcoat the old bird was sewing buttons.
“I guess I’ll get along with my old one,” said the old gentleman
rabbit, and, waving good-by to the Tailor Bird, he soon reached
Cottontail Square, where they found a big crowd gathered around the
statues of Uncle Sam and Aunt Columbia.
“What’s all this about?” asked the old gentleman, curiously.
“I’ll enquire,” answered the Scarecrow, standing up on the rear seat.
Just then a bunny man, carrying in his arms a little boy rabbit,
pushed his way out.
“Dear, dear! is he hurt?” anxiously asked dear, kind Uncle Lucky.
“No, no!” shouted back the bunny man. “It’s Tinkle Timmy, the fairy
bunny child. He’s only frightened. I’m taking him back to the Fairy
Glen.”
“You have a kind heart,” said Uncle Lucky. “Come around to the bank
to-morrow. Maybe we need a porter.”
Then away drove the old gentleman bunny. Pretty soon they came to the
Farmyard.
“Bow, wow!” barked Old Sic’em, the farmer’s dog.
“Come here, I want to whisper in your ear,” said the old gentleman
rabbit, leaning out of the Luckymobile.
“Look out for Danny Fox to-night,
He’s coming here when the moon is bright
To steal a chicken for a stew,
So catch him by his curlicue,”
he whispered to the old watch-dog as he stood on his tip toes.
“Where is his curlicue?” asked Old Sic’em.
“Oh, I mean his bushy tail,” laughed Uncle Lucky, “but as tail
doesn’t always rime in poetry I said “cue” instead.”
“All right,” answered Old Sic’em. “I’ll be on the lookout,” and with
a wag of his curlicue,—beg pardon, I mean his long thin tail, he said
good-by. Then away went the Luckymobile so fast that it nearly ran
over a man who mended old tin pails, wash boilers and maybe other
things.
“Helloa, there!” shouted Uncle Lucky, “can you mend a hole in my
woolen sock?”
“Don’t you poke fun at me,” answered the tin man with a dreadful
angry look, “rabbits don’t wear stockings!” But when Uncle Lucky
handed him a ten carrot gold piece the tin man began to smile.
Pretty soon the old gentleman bunny spied a great tremendous pumpkin
in a cornfield.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky to the Luckymobile, which stopped just
like that, only maybe a little quicker. “Let’s take the pumpkin home
with us.” But, dear me! how disappointed he was after hopping over
the fence. The pumpkin was so heavy that dear Uncle Lucky couldn’t
lift it to save his whiskers. Neither could Little Jack Rabbit.
“What shall we do?” asked the little bunny.
All of a sudden the Old Scarecrow, who had been sound asleep all this
time, woke up.
“Let me help you,” he said and, jumping out, lifted the pumpkin up in
his arms into the Luckymobile without even scratching the shell.
As soon as the Scarecrow was seated, away they went and pretty soon,
not so very far, nor so very long, they came to a cross road. Right
there stood a big sign post on which was written:
“To Rabbitville, 1 mile
To Lettuce Hills, 2 miles
To Turnip City, 3 miles.”
“Gracious me!” cried Little Jack Rabbit. “I don’t know where I’d
rather go.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Professor Crow, just then flying by with his
little Wisdom Book in his left claw.
“Now listen to me
For a minute or three,”
and turning to page one, oh, oh! he read aloud:
“Never hurry, never worry,
Never rush and never scurry.
Start in time and you’ll get there;
So the tortoise beat the hare.”
“Where did you get your wonderful little Wisdom Book?” asked Uncle
Lucky, taking off his goggles and scratching his left ear with his
right hind foot.
“That’s my secret,” answered the old black bird, with a smile,
winking his little black eyes and curling his feathers with his beak.
“I wish I had a Wisdom Book,” went on the old gentleman rabbit. “It’s
full of good things.”
[Illustration: “I’ll tell you,” said Professor Crow.]
“I’ll tell you something since you’re so fond of my little book. I’ve
written in it all the good things I’ve heard. You see, when I first
bought it at the Three-in-One Cent Store, it was only full of white
pages, but now it’s full of wise things,” answered the old crow,
glancing up over his spectacles. All of a sudden he took out his
fountain pen and shouted: “Listen! I’ve just thought of something:
“Frogs from little Tadpoles grow!”
Then with a bang he closed his book and, snapping his bill, flapped
his wings and flew away, but where he went I cannot say.
“Why didn’t we ask him which road to take?” sighed the Scarecrow,
looking up at the sign-post. “I don’t know anybody in Lettuce Hill
and what’s the use of going to Rabbitville when you two little
rabbits are here and not there. I’m sure I don’t want to go to Turnip
City. My wife’s mother now lives there and for me she doesn’t care.”
“All right,” laughed kind Uncle Lucky, “let’s go home—the best place
of all,” and turning the Luckymobile to the right, after a while, and
more than a mile, and maybe a smile, they met a funny Little Donkey
with two baskets over his back, one on each side.
“The Rooster sings his cock-ado,
The Old Cow sometimes gives a moo,
The Big Brown Horse will answer neigh,
But what does the Little Donkey say
When he puts back his ears and gives a bray?”
“What does he say?” asked Uncle Lucky, making the Luckymobile trot by
the side of the Little Donkey as nicely as you please.
“He says: ‘Look out for my heels!’” laughed the little long-eared
animal, throwing out his hind legs to show how high he could kick.
But, oh, dear me! He should have known better, for out rolled the
carrots all over the road.
Out hopped dear Uncle Lucky, kind Little Jack Rabbit and the nice
old Scarecrow to help him pick them up. As soon as the baskets were
filled and fastened on straight, for they were all wiggly waggly, you
know, the Little Donkey said:
“Next time I’ll think before I kick
And look before I leap,
And lock the stable door before
I lay me down to sleep.”
“Come in with us,” said kind Uncle Lucky. “We’re going your way.”
Carefully climbing in, the Little Donkey set down the baskets of
carrots. Pretty soon on reaching a little green barn he shouted:
“I live right here. Come, stay awhile. Although I live in a barn I
have nice things. Besides, I own three Liberty Bonds and a cigar
coupon. Oh, yes, I’m a patriotic donkey. My two brothers went to
France with the U. S. Army,” and, pointing to a small iron safe in
one corner, he added in a whisper, “That’s where I keep my money.”
“You can’t beat me,” said the Scarecrow. And would you believe it?
He put his hand in his inside coat pocket and drew out three Liberty
Bonds! Yes, sir, he did! “And I’m not going to sell them, either,” he
added, pinning his overcoat carefully over his waistcoat.
“If you’ll wait a minute while I put the carrots in the pantry,”
said the Little Donkey, “I’ll come back and make you some nice candy.”
At once the little rabbits and the Scarecrow sat down and waited
until the Little Donkey returned with some maple sugar, a lemon
lollypop and a chocolate caramel. Filling a saucepan with water,
he soon had a wonderful candy boiling on the stove. After it was
all done he put it down the well to cool, and when it was hard and
nice he gave a piece to the little rabbits and another piece to the
Scarecrow, who said it was much finer than any he had ever tasted
from the Three-in-One Cent Store.