“Well, she keeps you that way, too,” said the muskrat lady. “And, on the whole, perhaps it is a good thing for you. I believe you have become younger these last two weeks.”
“Hum!” said Uncle Wiggily, noncommital like and unconvinced. “Anyhow I can’t play with Baby Bunty this morning.”
And when he told this to the little rabbit girl, whom he had found in a hollow stump, she said:
“Oh, dear! Then I’ll have to go off in the woods by myself and pick wild flowers. But will you play with me some other time, Uncle Wiggily, and chase me and have a game of tag and all that?”
“Yes,” promised Uncle Wiggily, as he put on his tall silk hat, and looked to see if his pink nose was twinkling properly, “I’ll play with you later.”
So he went one way through the woods, and Baby Bunty went another, pushing her carriage, in which she often used to be wheeled when she was smaller than she was now.
“Don’t get lost!” said Uncle Wiggily, as he waved his paw to the little rabbit girl.
“I’ll try not to,” she said.
Uncle Wiggily had a nice visit with his old friend, Grandfather Goosey Gander. They talked about the time when they were young and spry.
“But I’m getting old and stiff now,” said Uncle Wiggily.