"I went down to the carrot patch last night," he told her. "And I must say I don't see why you're so fond of carrots. They're not half as good as some big green balls that I found in the garden. I call the carrot leaves tough. But the big green balls have very tender leaves."
His mother gave him a queer look.
"Do you mean to tell me," she asked him, "that you ate only the leaves of the carrots?"
"Why, yes!" said Nimble. "I saw nothing else to eat. There was no fruit on them."
"Ho!" cried his mother. "You have to dig with your toes to reach the carrots themselves. They're down in the ground. And to my mind there's nothing any juicier and sweeter and tenderer than nice young carrots, eaten by the light of the moon."
Nimble felt very foolish. And then he tossed his head and said lightly, "Oh, well! It wouldn't have made any difference if I had dug the carrots out of the dirt. They wouldn't have tasted right anyhow. For there was no moon last night!"