“Can’t I have a peep at your little bunny?” asked the tiny meadowmouse, holding his cap in his left paw as he turned the brass doorknob. “I want to tell the Sunny Meadow People I’ve seen him.”
“Come along, then, on your tiptoes,” answered Mr. Rabbit, leading the little meadowmouse to the bedroom where the bunny baby lay sound asleep.
“S-s-s-s-h!” whispered Lady Love from the rocking chair close by, as Timmie Meadowmouse stood on his hind legs to peep into the cradle.
“He’ll be running about in a day or two,” chuckled Mr. Rabbit, as he said good night to Timmie Meadowmouse. “He’ll be out with Uncle Lucky in no time.”
“He’s over at the barnyard, talking to Old Sic’em.”
And that’s just what happened a few weeks later when Uncle Lucky, hopping out of his Luckymobile and into the Old Bramble Patch, shouted:
“Where’s that grandson of mine?”
“He’s over at the Barnyard, talking to Old Sic’em,” answered Mr. Rabbit from the front porch.
“Please call him home,” begged anxious Lady Love.