"I'm going to a wedding," said the rabbit. "I've no time to wait!" and away he went.
"Gracious me!" exclaimed the squirrel. "I had forgotten all about Cock Robin's wedding! I must be going."
"And so must I," cried the chipmunk and the beaver, but what the old bullfrog said I will tell you in the next story.
DUCKLINGS
WELL, you will certainly agree with me that the old bullfrog, in the last story, is a wonderful fellow when you hear what he says about Mrs. Duck, and, it is all in poetry, too.
"Old Mother Duck has hatched a brood
Of ducklings, small and callow;
Their little wings are short, their down
Is mottled gray and yellow."
"There is a quiet little stream,
That runs into the moat,
Where tall green sedges spread their leaves
And water lilies float."
"Close by the margin of the brook
The old duck made her nest,
Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass,
And down from her own breast."
"And there she sat for four long weeks,
In rainy days and fine,
Until the ducklings all came out—
Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine."
"So this is your home," said Puss, Junior, as Mrs. Duck stepped into her nest, followed by her brood.
"One peeped out from beneath her wing,
One scrambled on her back;
"That's very rude," said old Mrs. Duck;
"Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!"