sang Mrs. Daisy Duck.
“It’s down by the Old Duck Pond,” whispered Uncle John Hare. “Mrs. Daisy Duck thinks I don’t know, but one day I hop-tiptoed after her. Don’t tell her, I think she has a nest in her little shack. Maybe someday there’ll be a brood of ducklings.”
“What are you whispering about?” asked the old lady duck, with a quack and a flap of her wings. “Secrets?”
“Maybe,” answered the old gentleman bunny. “Or, perhaps, advice. Give you three guesses.”
“Haven’t time,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, bustling out to the kitchen to look at the lollypop stew and carrot cake. “I must think about supper.”
“Come to your own little room,” said Uncle John Hare, leading the way up the winding stair. His little rabbit nephew followed, his knapsack swinging over his shoulder and his striped candy cane dangling from his elbow.
“There,” exclaimed the dear old gentleman hare, throwing open the door, “nothing has been changed except the calendar. Every day I tore off the date, saying to myself, ‘Perhaps to-morrow he’ll come again to visit his old uncle.’ It came true this morning, so it did,” and with a happy sigh the loving old bunny hare sat down in the rocking chair.
“Yes, your little room has been kept just the same for you,” he went on, “and you must make a long, long visit this time.”
“Oh, I will,” answered Little Jack Rabbit, with a laugh. “Mother said I might stay as long as you wanted me.”
“Well, that won’t be long enough,” answered Uncle John Hare. “Come, part your hair down the middle of your back and wash your paws for supper. I smell the lollypop stew.”