“Hello! Who is there?” asked Uncle Wiggily.
“Why, if you please, I am here, and I am the first little pig,” came the answer, and out from behind the bush stepped a cute little piggie boy, with a bundle of straw under his paw.
“So you are the first little pig, eh?” asked Uncle Wiggily. “How many of you are there altogether?”
“Three, if you please,” grunted the first little pig. “I have two brothers, and they are the second and third little pigs. Don’t you remember reading about us in the Mother Goose book?”
“Oh, of course I do!” cried Uncle Wiggily, twinkling his nose. “And so you are the first little pig. But what are you going to do with that bundle of straw?”
“I’m going to build me a house, Uncle Wiggily, of course,” grunted the piggie boy. “Don’t you remember what it says in the book? ‘Once upon a time there were three little pigs, named Grunter, Squeaker and Twisty-Tail.’ Well, I’m Grunter, and I met a man with a load of straw, and I asked him for a bundle to make me a house. He very kindly gave it to me, and now, I’m off to build it.”
“May I come?” asked Uncle Wiggily. “I’ll help you put up your house.”
“Of course you may come—glad to have you,” answered the first little pig. “Only you know what happens to me; don’t you?”
“No! What?” asked the rabbit gentleman. “I guess I have forgotten the story.”
“Well, after I build my house of straw, just as it says in the Mother Goose story book, along comes a bad old wolf, and he blows it down,” said the first little pig.