Printed in the United States of America
STORY I
UNCLE WIGGILY AND BABY BUNTY
“Ouch! Oh, dear! My! My!”
That was what Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy heard one day in the hollow stump bungalow. She was just getting breakfast for Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny gentleman.
“My goodness me sakes alive and a basket of potato chips!” cried Nurse Jane, accidentally dropping a stewed carrot into the turnip marmalade. “I hope the Skeezicks, or the Pipsisewah or the Skuddlemagoon hasn’t caught Mr. Longears!”
She looked in the dining room. The uncle bunny had just come downstairs to his breakfast.
“Ouch! Oh, me! Oh, my!” groaned Uncle Wiggily as he sat down in his chair, which was gnawed out of a grape vine root.
“Why, no one is biting him,” said Nurse Jane, as she looked all around. “Whatever in the world is the matter, Wiggy?” she asked, bringing in his breakfast turnip.
“Oh, I’m getting old, I guess,” he answered. “My joints are stiff, and it isn’t all rheumatism, either. I can’t move around as spry as I’d like to. Every time I bend over, or stoop, or try to hurry I get aches and pains and——”
“Oh, nonsense!” laughed Nurse Jane. “You only imagine it. You’re as young as ever! What you need is some one lively around the house. Some one to chase you, to tag you and make you spry. I can’t do it, because I have the housework to look after. But if you could get some bright, frisky, lively little chap—why, you’d be a different rabbit.”