Shoving in his paw, he pulled out the stone and hurled it across the Sunny Meadow. Whack! it came up against the old apple tree, knocking off twenty big red apples, which almost hit Little Jack Rabbit as he hopped safely back to the dear Old Bramble Patch, where Lady Love, his pretty bunny mother, stood waiting for her little boy at the gate in the old picket fence.
“Cousin Cottontail has invited us over this evening to hear the Jack Rabbit Man tell stories,” she said, kissing her little bunny boy.
“Ha, ha! That will be fine!” cried the little bunny, forgetting all about Mr. Wicked Wolf. Dear me, I wish that wicked wolf had forgotten all about the little rabbit. Then, with a skip and jump, he hopped on the porch.
“Hello, little rabbit boy,” twittered the canary from her gold cage. “What makes you so happy?”
“Didn’t you hear what mother just said?” he asked, with a twinkle of his pretty pink nose.
“No,” answered the pretty yellow bird. “What did she say?”
“That we are invited over to Cousin Cottontail’s to listen on the radio.”
Just then something happened. Isn’t it a shame that unpleasant things so often happen?
“No, you’re not going to hear bunny stories to-night,” growled a deep ugly voice, and there, just outside the Old Bramble Patch, stood Mr. Wicked Wolf. Dear me! How cruel he looked, his big red tongue hanging out of his mouth and his long sharp teeth gleaming like bowie knives in the sunlight.
“What—what are you here for?” asked the little rabbit, all a-tremble.