“A circus is a place where they have all kinds of freaks,” the hedgehog answered with a sly smile—“giants and dwarfs, and thin people and fat people.”
“But I’m not a freak,” Billy Woodchuck replied. “Of course, I’m big for my age. But I’m not a giant.”
“Yes, you are,” the hedgehog insisted.
“You’re a giant squirrel. You look like him”—he pointed to a young fellow called Frisky Squirrel—“only you’re ever so much bigger.”
That made Billy Woodchuck very angry. And he began to chatter and scold.
Wise old Mr. Crow, who sat in a tree nearby, told him to keep his temper.
“Certainly you are not a squirrel,” he said. “It is nonsense to say that a ground hog is the same as a squirrel——”
Billy Woodchuck’s voice broke into a shrill scream. A ground hog! He was terribly angry.
“Why, yes!” Mr. Crow said, nodding his head with a knowing air. “You’re a marmot, you know.”
“No, I’m not!” Billy cried. “I’m a woodchuck! That’s what I am. And I’m going home and tell my mother what horrid names you’ve been calling me.”