But just as Uncle Wiggily was reading how Grandfather Goosey Gander had a cold in his bill and couldn’t quack very well, Nurse Jane suddenly cried:
“Oh, Uncle Wiggily! Come here as quickly as you can. Hurry!”
“What’s the matter now?” asked the rabbit gentleman, as he dropped his paper and gave three hops, a jump and part of a skip to the window, out of which Nurse Jane was looking. “What’s the matter?”
“See! There goes Baby Bunty’s doll!” said the muskrat lady. “It’s skidding along over the ground as fast as the skillery-scalery alligator can crawl. Baby Bunty’s doll is running away, and she’ll feel so badly!”
“Baby Bunty’s doll running away? Impossible!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “The doll isn’t alive—it can’t run away!”
“But it is!” said Nurse Jane. “See it skiddle along!”
And, as true as I’m telling you, there was Baby Bunty’s doll, moving along the woodland path, over the green moss, over the green grass, over the brown leaves in and out among the green ferns. The doll was sliding along the ground, but no one was dragging her or pulling her or pushing her—that is as far as Uncle Wiggily and Nurse Jane could see.
“Did you ever? Can you imagine it!” cried the muskrat lady.
“I can see it!” said the bunny, rubbing his eyes, and his pink, twinkling nose, to make sure he was awake.
“I can see it!” said Uncle Wiggily. “I don’t have to imagine it. But what makes that doll go I don’t know. Some dolls can walk and talk, but I never saw one slide along all by herself before.”