NOT far from the House of Low Ceilings, which stands on the borders of
the Big Deep Woods, there is a still smaller house, where, in
summertime, the Story Teller goes to make up things and write them down.
And one warm day he is writing away and not noticing what time it is
when he thinks he hears somebody step in the door. So then he looks
around, and he sees a little straw hat and a little round red face under
it, and then he sees a basket, and right away he knows it is the Little
Lady. And the Little Lady says:
"I've brought the picnic--did you know it?"
"Why, no!" the Story Teller says, looking surprised. "Is it time?"
"Yes, and I've got huckleberries and cream, and some hot biscuits."
"Good gracious! Let's see!"
So then the Story Teller looks, and, sure enough, there they are, and
more things, too; and pretty soon the Little Lady and he go down to a
very quiet place under some hemlock-trees by a big rock where there is a
clear brook and a spring close by, and they sit down, and the Little
Lady spreads the picnic all out--and there is ham too, and
bread-and-butter, and doughnuts--and they are so hungry that they eat
everything, and both dip into one bowl when they get to huckleberries
and cream.
Then the Little Lady says:
"Now tell me about the Hollow Tree People; they have picnics, too."
"Sure enough, they do. And I think I'll have to tell you about their
very last picnic and what happened."
Well, once upon a time Mr. 'Possum said that he was getting tired of
sitting down to a table every meal in a close room with the smell of
cooking coming in, and if Mr. Crow would cook up a few things that would
taste good cold he'd pack the basket (that is, Mr. 'Possum would) and
Mr. 'Coon could carry it, and they'd go out somewhere and eat their
dinner in a nice place under the trees.
Mr. 'Coon said he knew a pleasant place to go, and Mr. Crow said he'd
cook one of Mr. Man's chickens, which Mr. 'Possum had brought home the
night before, though it would take time, he said, because it was pretty
old--Mr. 'Possum having picked it out in the dark in a hurry.
So then they all flew around and put away things, and Mr. Crow got the
chicken on while Mr. 'Coon sliced the bread and Mr. 'Possum cut the
cake, which they had been saving for Sunday, and he picked out a pie
too, and a nice book to read which Mr. Crow had found lying in Mr. Man's
yard while the folks were at dinner. Then he packed the basket all neat
and nice, and ate a little piece of the cake when Mr. 'Coon had stepped
out to see how the chicken was coming along, and when the chicken was
ready he cut it all up nicely, and he tasted of that a little, too,
while Mr. Crow was getting on his best picnic things to go.
And pretty soon they all started out, and it was so bright and sunny
that Mr. 'Possum began to sing a little, and Mr. 'Coon told him not to
make a noise like that or they'd have company--Mr. Dog or Mr. Fox or
somebody--when there was only just enough chicken for themselves, which
made Mr. 'Possum stop right away. And before long they came to a very
quiet place under some thick hemlock-trees behind a stone wall and close
to a brook of clear water.
[Illustration: AND HE TASTED OF THAT A LITTLE, TOO]
That was the place Mr. 'Coon had thought of, and they sat down there and
spread out all the things on some moss, and everything looked so nice
that Mr. 'Possum said they ought to come here every day and eat dinner
as long as the hot weather lasted. Then they were all so hungry that
they began on the chicken right away, and Mr. 'Possum said that maybe he
_might_ have picked out a tenderer one, but that he didn't think he
could have found a bigger one, or one that would have lasted longer, and
that, after all, size and lasting were what one needed for a picnic.
So they ate first one thing and then another, and Mr. 'Coon asked if
they remembered the time Mr. Dog had come to one of their picnics before
they were friends with him, when he'd really been invited to stay away;
and they all laughed when they thought how Mr. Rabbit had excused
himself, and the others, too, one after another, until Mr. Dog had the
picnic mostly to himself. And by-and-by the Hollow Tree People lit their
pipes and smoked, and Mr. 'Possum leaned his back against a tree and
read himself to sleep, and dreamed, and had a kind of a nightmare about
that other picnic, and talked in his sleep about it, which made Mr.
'Coon think of something to do.
So then Mr. 'Coon got some long grass and made a strong band of it and
very carefully tied Mr. 'Possum to the tree, and just as Mr. 'Possum
began to have his dream again and was saying "Oh! Oh! here comes Mr.
Dog!" Mr. 'Coon gave three loud barks right in Mr. 'Possum's ear, and
Mr. Crow said "Wake up! Wake up, Mr. 'Possum! Here he comes!"
[Illustration: MR. 'POSSUM LEANED HIS BACK AGAINST A TREE AND READ
HIMSELF TO SLEEP]
And Mr. 'Possum did wake up, and jumped and jerked at that band, and
holloed out as loud as he could:
"Oh, please let me go, Mr. Dog! Oh, please let me go, Mr. Dog!" for he
thought it was Mr. Dog that had him, and he forgot all about them being
friends.
But just then he happened to see Mr. Crow and Mr. 'Coon rolling on the
ground and laughing, and he looked down to see what had him and found he
was tied to a tree, and he knew that they had played a joke on him. That
made him pretty mad at first, and he said if he ever got loose he'd pay
them back for their smartness.
Then Mr. 'Coon told him he most likely never would get loose if he
didn't promise not to do anything, so Mr. 'Possum promised, and Mr.
'Coon untied him. Mr. 'Possum said he guessed the chicken must have been
pretty hard to digest, and he knew it was pretty salt, for he was dying
for a good cold drink.
Then Mr. 'Coon said he knew where there was a spring over beyond the
wall that had colder water than the brook, and he'd show them the way to
it. So they climbed over the wall and slipped through the bushes to the
spring, and all took a nice cold drink, and just as they raised their
heads from drinking they heard somebody say something. And they all kept
perfectly still and listened, and they heard it again, just beyond some
bushes.
[Illustration: SO MR. 'POSSUM PROMISED, AND MR. 'COON UNTIED HIM]
So then they crept softly in among the green leaves and branches and
looked through, and what do you think they saw?
The Story Teller turns to the Little Lady, who seems a good deal
excited.
"Why, why, what did they see?" she says. "Tell me, quick!"
"Why," the Story Teller goes on, "they saw the Little Lady and the Story
Teller having a picnic too, with all the nice things spread out by a
rock, under the hemlock-trees."
"Oh," gasps the Little Lady, "did they really see us? and are they there
now?"
"They might be," says the Story Teller. "The Hollow Tree People slip
around very softly. Anyway, they were there then, and it was the first
time they had ever seen the Little Lady and the Story Teller so close.
And they watched them until they were all through with their picnic and
had gathered up their things. Then the 'Coon and the 'Possum and Old
Black Crow slipped away again, and crept over the wall and gathered up
their own things and set out for home very happy."
The Little Lady grasps the Story Teller's hand.
"Let's go and see their picnic place!" she says. "They may be there
now."
[Illustration: "AND WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY SAW?"]
So the Little Lady and the Story Teller go softly down to the spring
and get a drink; then they creep across to the mossy stone wall and peer
over, and there, sure enough, is a green mossy place in the shade, the
very place to spread a picnic; and the Little Lady jumps and says "Oh!"
for she sees something brown whisk into the bushes. Anyhow, she knows
the Hollow Tree People have been there, for there is a little piece of
paper on the moss which they must have used to wrap up something, and
she thinks they most likely heard her coming and are just gone.
So the Story Teller lifts her over the wall, and they sit down on the
green moss of the Hollow Tree picnic place, and she leans up against him
and listens to the singing of the brook, and the Story Teller sings
softly too, until by-and-by the Little Lady is asleep.
And it may be, as they sit there and drowse and dream, that the Hollow
Tree People creep up close and watch them.
Who knows?
[Illustration]
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Repeated chapter titles were deleted to avoid repetition for the reader.