“Three little bunnies a-sliding went
On a winter’s day,
The ice was thin, and two fell in,
And the third one ran away.”
“Ha, ha!” cawed an old crow from a tree top, “that’s a very fine song!”
“Well, if you think it’s such a fine song, throw me down an ice cream pine cone,” said the little rabbit. But the selfish old crow wanted it for himself, and instead threw down a snowball, which hit the little rabbit on the tip of his tail.
The little rabbit wasn’t going to stay there and have snowballs thrown at him. No, sireemam, he wasn’t. And pretty soon, not so very far, he met Jimmy Mink creeping along by the Old Duck Pond.
“I have to be very careful these winter days,” said the little mink. “Everybody wants to wear fur in the winter time, you know, and if that dreadful Miller’s Boy sees me, he might shoot me and sell my fur for a muff!”
“They set traps for me,” answered the little rabbit. “And Danny Fox and Mr. Wicked Weasel are always after me. And Hungry Hawk, too. You’re not the only one who has to look out for himself.”
Then the little rabbit took a lovely lollypop out of his knapsack and gave it to Jimmy Mink, and asked him to make a visit at the Old Bramble Patch.
“I’ll get Uncle John to take us riding in his Bunnysnowbile.” This tickled the little mink almost to pieces, for he’d never ridden in a Bunnysnowbile, and neither have I and neither have you, but perhaps some day we will if we happen to be around when Mr. John Hare comes by. And in the next book, if the smoke doesn’t blow down our chimney and choke the cook so that she can’t bake the biscuits for breakfast, I’ll tell you more about Little Jack Rabbit and his friends who live in Bunnyville, U. S. A.