Please come up the Forest Path
And take my picture with a laugh,”
telephoned Little Jack Rabbit one morning, oh, so early, as Mr. Merry Sun was climbing the blue sky in his golden chariot.
“All right, I’ll be there in a minute or three,” replied the kind photographer bird and, picking up his camera, he started off through the Shady Forest. It was quite a long walk, for his picture parlor was in Bunnybridge, you know, just over the River Sippi, but by and by, not so very far, for his long legs traveled pretty fast over the ground, he reached the Tall Pine Tree in which Professor Jim Crow had his home.
“Hello, Photographer Crane,” cawed the black bird professor, “where are you going?”
“To take Little Jack Rabbit’s picture,” answered Photographer Crane, setting down his camera and wiping his beak with a red silk pocket handkerchief.
“Wait a minute, my little crow boy wants his taken.”
“Have no time,” answered the picture bird man.
“Oh, please take a photograph of my little crow boy,” begged Professor Jim Crow. “It won’t take you a minute—here he is now.”
“Oh, all right,” answered Photographer Crane, setting up his camera.