“Guess I’m rested now!” said Mr. Wicked Wolf, knocking the ashes from his pipe and slipping it in his pocket. Then, drawing the sack up on his shoulder, he started off for home.
“My, what a heavy little bunny you are!” he growled, as he trotted through the woods.
Pretty soon he jumped over the Bubbling Brook. But when he landed on the other side,
The great big stone
In the sack
Hit him a dreadful
Whack on the back.
“Oh, my! What a tough little rabbit you are! But wait till I get you home! Mrs. Wolf will stew you until you’re nice and soft and tender! Ha, ha!”
“Hey, mother,” he shouted, on reaching his little stone house on the wooded hillside, “I have a nice little rabbit for supper.”
Letting the sack slip to the ground, Mr. Wicked Wolf untied it, oh, so care-ful-ly! But, goodness gracious me! When he peeked in and saw a big stone instead of a tender little rabbit, wasn’t he angry?