That, of course, makes a great damage, and though the Little Lady herself isn't hurt to speak of, she is frightened very much and has to be comforted by everybody, including the Story Teller, who comes last, and finishes up by telling about something that happened to Jack Rabbit when he was little.
Once upon a time, it begins, when Mr. Jack Rabbit was quite small, his mother left him all alone one afternoon while she went across the Wide Grass Lands to visit an old aunt of hers and take her some of the nice blackberries she had been putting up that morning. Mrs. Rabbit had been very busy all the forenoon, and little Jack had been watching her and making believe he was putting up berries too.
And when Mrs. Rabbit got through she had cleaned her stove and polished it as nice as could be; then she gave little Jack Rabbit his dinner, with some of the berries that were left over, and afterward she washed his face and hands and found his blocks for him to play with, besides a new stick of red sealing-wax—the kind she used to seal her cans with; for they did not have patent screw-top cans in those days, but always sealed the covers on with red sealing-wax.
Then Mrs. Rabbit told little Jack that he could play with his blocks, and build houses, with the red stick for a chimney, and to be a good boy until she came home. So little Jack Rabbit promised, and Mrs. Rabbit kissed him twice and took her parasol and her reticule and a can of berries, and started. Little Jack would have gone with her, only it was too far.
Well, after she had left, little Jack played with his blocks and built houses and set the stick of sealing-wax up for a brick chimney, and by-and-by he played he was canning fruit, and he wished he could have a little stove and little cans and a little stick of sealing-wax, so he could really do it all just as she did.
TOOK HER PARASOL AND HER RETICULE AND A CAN OF BERRIES, AND STARTED
Then little Jack Rabbit looked at the nice polished stove and wondered how it would be to use that, and to build a little fire in it—just a little fire—which would make everything seem a good deal more real, he thought, than his make-believe stove of blocks.
And pretty soon little Jack opened the stove door and looked in, and when he stirred the ashes there were still a few live coals there, and when he put in some shavings they blazed up, and when he put in some pieces of old shingles and things they blazed up too, and when he put in some of Mrs. Rabbit's nice dry wood the stove got quite hot!