“Ha! Those are nice plants,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Perhaps they may have seen Baby Bunty pass this way.”
So, understanding the language of flowers, which is about the same as that which is talked by the leaves and vines, Uncle Wiggily asked the green plants if they had seen the little rabbit girl.
“No,” answered one large plant, “we haven’t seen Baby Bunty. We have been so busy trying to shake off a lot of bad, red, biting bugs, on our stalks and leaves, that we haven’t had a chance to look for any one. We wish we could drive the bugs away.”
“I can do that,” kindly offered Uncle Wiggily. “I will drive away the red bugs that are biting your thick, green, glossy leaves. I’ll knock them off with my red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch.”
“Please do!” begged the plants growing on the edge of the big pond.
So Uncle Wiggily drove away the biting bugs by tapping on the green, thick-leaved plants with his crutch, and the plants thanked the rabbit gentleman very much.
“If we can ever do you or any of your friends a favor we shall be glad to,” they said.
Uncle Wiggily hardly thought a plant could ever do you a favor, but just you wait and see. On and on through the woods hopped the rabbit gentleman, until pretty soon he came to a cute little shady dingly dell, and there was Baby Bunty lying on the grass fast asleep. In one paw was her wooden doll—Sarah Jane Sassafras Ricepudding.
“Oh, Bunty! Wake up!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “Nurse Jane wants you to come home! It’s nearly supper time!”
Baby Bunty awakened with a start, rubbed her eyes, and then, holding her doll, Matilda Arabella Flapdoodle, in one paw, the little rabbit girl took hold of Uncle Wiggily’s coat tail and back to the hollow stump bungalow they started.