"We talked together for some time, the Lark explaining your plan to have all the frogs come to what he called 'the old Frog Pond' in Rainbow Valley. I asked him how far it was to the pond and the way to get there. He was very careful to tell me all I needed to know and then said he must be going, as there were a great many others he wished to see that day.
"After he was gone I sat for a long time thinking of what he had told me. The more I thought of it the more I wanted to go. I did like my home in the flower garden, but I never knew what prank that mischievous boy would play on me. This kept me so restless I could hardly enjoy my meals or get a good night's rest. After thinking the matter over for a long time, I made up my mind to go. So that very evening after the sun was down and the shadows began to fall I said good-by to the garden, took a last look at the two houses and the garden hose, and slipped softly away. I traveled 'most all night. This morning, as the first faint streak of light appeared in the east, I heard a great croaking. I was tired, but I quickened my steps, for I felt I was nearing the pond. Sure enough, in a very short time I saw the water and the big rock. I knew then that I was at the right place. I think I am very fortunate to get here so soon. I am sure I shall like this home. And now, if you will excuse me, I will go over to the big rock and rest awhile."
As Mrs. Toad turned away, every frog began hunting his breakfast. All were well pleased that so fine a person as Mrs. Toad had come to live with them.
BULLY'S NEW COAT
For several hours black clouds heavy with rain had hung low over the Frog Pond. The gentle spring raindrops came softly down, giving a little pat now and then to the little buds on the trees which had been trying to open their sleepy eyes for several days. In the morning the wind tossed and tumbled the black storm clouds about until they looked like huge, billowy gray blankets. The warm spring sun shone down, gently touching each little bud until it opened its eyes and burst into full bloom.
All the little creeping and crawling creatures were moving about. All the little flying insects were sailing through the air. The bees were flitting from flower to flower as if they would taste the sweetness of each of them.
It seemed to Bully that the world, his little world, had never been as beautiful as when he opened his eyes that spring morning. All the frogs seemed to be enjoying the loveliness, for the woods fairly rang with their cheerful croakings.
Did I say Bully was singing? If I did, it was all a mistake. Bully wasn't even thinking of singing. He was sitting on his lily pad thinking how uncomfortable he felt. If we had been near enough, no doubt we should have heard him sigh every once in a while. I'm pretty sure he groaned a bit, too, although it might have been something he was muttering to himself. But there was no need to worry, for Bully was not ill. He felt a great deal as you feel after dinner on Thanksgiving Day. You know that then you would like to put on your older sister's or brother's clothes, as your own seem too tight for you. The trouble is, you have been greedy. A young frog is one of the greediest creatures in the world. He will eat bees and flies and ants, grasshoppers, wiggly worms, crawly bugs, and any kind of flying thing—about every little live thing that's small enough to go down his throat.
Bully had been gorging this way for several days, so don't be surprised if I tell you his clothes were too small for him. His coat was tight, his vest was tight, and his trousers and stockings even tighter. No matter whether he sat down, stood up, or moved about, he was uncomfortable. He was sure he could not put another thing into his stomach until he wore a bigger suit of clothes.