“Yes,” said Mr. Longears, “she is. No one would get stiff joints with her around.” And if the box of talcum powder doesn’t blow smoke in the eyes of the potatoes and make them blink, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s doll.
STORY V
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BUNTY’S DOLL
“Where is Bunty?” asked Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, one morning, as he came down to breakfast in his hollow stump bungalow.
“Oh, Bunty has gone out to play, long ago!” said Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy.
“Well, I’m glad of that,” spoke Uncle Wiggily, with a sigh, sort of restful like and ample. “It’s a good thing to have Bunty go out and play.”
“Do you mean it’s good for her?” asked Nurse Jane, as she sliced some carrots for the bunny’s breakfast and poured maple sugar sauce over them.
“It’s restful for Bunty and restful for me,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Do you know, Nurse Jane,” he went on, “since I found Baby Bunty, that cute little rabbit girl, in a hollow stump and brought her home to live with us, she certainly has kept me going. Yes, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Longears, explosive like and inflammatory, at the same time documentary, “she certainly has kept me busy!”
“But it’s good for you,” said Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper. “You haven’t looked so well in months. Baby Bunty, by being lively, and making you chase her every once in a while, keeps you from getting stiff.”
“Well, yes, perhaps,” admitted the bunny rabbit. “But, at the same time I am glad she has gone out to play this morning. Now, after breakfast, I can sit and read my paper in peace and restfulness.”
And, when he had finished eating his turnip turnovers, with lettuce frosting on, Uncle Wiggily sat down in his easy chair in the sunshine, and began to look over the Cabbage Leaf Gazette, which is the newspaper of the animal people of Woodland, near the Orange Ice Mountains.