“All right, we’ll make a call on your mother,” said the Circus Elephant, scrambling to his feet. “How do I look?” he asked, straightening his bow tie.
“Very nice,” answered Little Jack Rabbit, “except your trousers. They’re all covered with bits of dry leaves.”
“So they are,” said the Circus Elephant, looking down. “Have you a whisk broom?”
The little bunny opened his knapsack and, taking out a small broom, carefully brushed off the big Elephant.
“I can’t reach your hip-pocket,” he said, standing on tiptoe.
“Here, give me the broom,” said the Circus Elephant, and, grasping the handle in his trunk, he dusted himself off as well as Mister Rastus Coon, the kind porter on the “Cabbage” Pullman Car, brushes a sleepy passenger.
“Now I’ll lift you up on my back,” and the next minute Little Jack Rabbit found himself riding off on the big animal.
By and by, after a while, and maybe a mile and a bump and a smile, they met Old Man Weasel. But Little Jack Rabbit wasn’t afraid. Oh, dear, no! Why should he be? He was way up high on the Circus Elephant’s broad back. Old Man Weasel couldn’t reach up that far, not even if he stood on tiptoe.
“Get out of my way,” roared the big Elephant. “You’re blocking up the path.”
“Where are you going?” snarled Old Man Weasel, stepping aside. My, didn’t he look ugly! Well, I just guess he did. But that didn’t do him any good.