“Oh, dear!” he cried. “This is no fun! I wish it were light so I could see where I am going.”
Then he tripped over a log and came down ker-plunk! hurting his rheumatism, and he felt very badly, indeed.
“Oh, I wish some one would help me find my way to my bungalow!” he cried.
“I’ll help you,” said a kind voice, and then the woods were suddenly made almost as bright as day, for the moon rose over the trees, and shone down, so Uncle Wiggily could see the path, and stumbled no more.
“How is that?” asked the moon-man, beaming down on Uncle Wiggily. “Do I make it light enough for you?”
“Yes, indeed! Fine,” said the bunny uncle. “I can see all right now. Thank you.”
So the moon-man, whose mouth no longer burned, thanks to the ice cream cone, shone brightly until Uncle Wiggily safely reached his bungalow.
And, if the trolley car doesn’t go roller-skating with the apple pie and upset the goldfish, so they spill into the canary’s cage, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Humpty Dumpty.