When, at dusk, the babies came tramping up the snow-path, jingling their skates, and very warm and cheerful, the library windows were ablaze with light. Their mother met them at the door, and told them to take off their coats quickly and come to her, for the Easter hare had been to see her and had left something for them. I don't think the sort of hare that is called Easter ever goes to England, but in Germany they are supposed to bring all the eggs and presents at Easter in a basket, just as Father Christmas brings the presents at Christmas. The babies had often seen hares in the garden, but they never had baskets, and it was only the mother who was lucky enough to meet the real Easter hare, basket and all. As Easter time drew near she would come in from the garden and say, 'Who do you think I met, babies, in the copse where the anemones grow?' And they would listen with round eyes while she described the costume and conversation and conduct of the Easter hare. They used to prowl round the copse sometimes for hours, but they never saw him. 'He's rather shy,' said the mother.
It was wonderful what things that Easter hare did. The library was brilliant with lamps and candles, and the fire was blazing up the great chimney, and on a low table round which stood three little chairs, the Easter hare had put a cloth, and a new dolls' tea set that the babies had never seen, with spoons, and knives, and tiny napkins, and in the middle of the table a little flower-pot with a whole snowdrop plant growing in it. There were a great many plates of cake, and bread and butter, and pieces of scone, and jam, for the plates were so small that one of each would never have filled the babies, and there was a little dish of white radishes on one side of the snowdrop, and a little dish of red radishes on the other side of the snowdrop, and it looked as festive a banquet as any one could wish to see. 'Oh!' cried the babies when they came in.
'The Easter hare did it all,' said the mother, 'and has lent you his best tea things. He is coming in again to-night to fetch them, because he's giving rather a lot of parties himself just now, and can't spare them long.'
'Oh how dear he is!' cried April, dancing round the little table, while May hung fondly over the radishes.
But June took her mother aside. 'I wants to say you something,' she said, in a voice that sounded hollow, pulling her by her dress into a remote corner.
'Well?' said the mother bending down.
June put her arms round her mother's neck and drew her head close. 'I doesn't believe there is one Easter hare,' she whispered in a loud and awful whisper.
'Oh you tickle me!' cried the mother, pulling herself up straight again with a jerk, and rubbing her ear.
'I doesn't believe there ever is Easter hares,' continued June, in a tone of gloomy conviction, while her mother rubbed her tickled ear without answering, 'nor any baskets too not. I doesn't believe there ever did was any, either.'
The mother stood looking down at her, mechanically rubbing her ear. 'What a dreadful baby you are,' she murmured at last; 'why don't you believe in him? When I was a little girl I believed everything.'