“I’m never so good-natured as when I’m thinking seriously, Shrike,” was the retort. “Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll sleep over it, and then I won’t do anything hasty.”
There was Crooked Ears, a big rabbit who ruled over a family of twenty in a burrow buried deep under the cliff; Pink Nose, whose family was noted for the remarkably pinkish tinge that decorated the tips of their noses; and Rolly Polly, who was so round and fat that he could roll down a hill faster than he could run. They lived in different parts of the woods, and it took all the morning for the Shrike to find them and spread the news.
They accepted the tale with different degrees of surprise and distrust. Rolly Polly was too fat and pleasant to let it worry him much, and Pink Nose was more interested in what Bumper looked like than his mission in the woods. When the Shrike explained that he was a pure white rabbit, with pink eyes, Pink Nose eagerly asked:
“What’s the color of his nose?”
Knowing his fondness for pink-nosed rabbits, and fearing that he might claim kinship with Bumper if he said he had a pink nose, Shrike purposely stretched the truth.
“It is all white, the same as his fur—everything white except his pink eyes.”
Pink Nose looked disappointed. “I wish he had a pink nose,” he said sadly. “Then I’d know he was related to me.”
“Pink! Oh! Ho!” laughed the Shrike. “He hates pink-nosed rabbits.”
“Who told you that?” snapped Pink Nose.
“Spotted Tail!” he lied without blinking.