Well, pretty soon, after a while, as they all walked through the woods, Sammie kept going slower and slower and slower, because his basket was quite heavy, until he was a long way in back of his papa, his mamma and Susie. But he didn't mind that, for he knew he had plenty of time, when all at once what should come running out of the bushes but a great big dog. At first Sammie was frightened, but then when he looked again he knew the dog was not a rabbit-dog. No, what is worse, he was an egg-dog. Now an egg-dog is a dog that eats eggs, and they are one of the very worst kinds of dogs there are. So the dog saw Sammie and knew what the little rabbit boy had in his basket. But he asked him, making believe he didn't know: "What have you in that basket, my little chap?" You see, he called him "little chap" so as to pretend he was a friendly egg-dog.
"There are Easter eggs in the basket," said Sammie politely.
"And what, pray, are Easter eggs, if I may be so bold as to ask?" inquired the dog, licking his teeth with his long red tongue, and blinking his eyes, as if he didn't care.
"Easter eggs," replied Sammie, "are eggs for children for Easter, and they are very prettily colored."
"Oh, ho!" exclaimed the dog, just like that, and he sniffed the air. "Please excuse me. But would you kindly be so good as to let me see those eggs? I never saw any colored ones."
"Well," answered Sammie, "I am in a hurry, but you may have one peep."
So he opened the top of the basket and there, sure enough, were the eggs, the green, the blue, the pink, the Johnnie red and the skilligimink colored ones and all.
"Oh, how lovely!" cried the bad dog, sniffing the air again. "May I have one?"