But, when she got there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.”
“And isn’t there anything else in the house to eat, except a bone, Mother Hubbard?” the dog asked. “I’m so hungry?”
“There isn’t, I’m sorry to say,” she answered. “But I’ll go to the baker’s to get you some bread——”
“And when you come back you will think I am dead,” said the dog, quickly. “I’ll look so, anyhow,” he went on, “for I am so hungry. Isn’t there any way of getting me anything to eat without going to the baker’s? I don’t care much for bread, anyhow.”
“How would you like a piece of orange cake?” asked Uncle Wiggily, all of a sudden, as he walked in Mother Hubbard’s house. “Excuse me,” said the bunny uncle, “but I could not help hearing what your dog said. I know how hard it is to be hungry, and I have an orange cake in my basket. It is for Dr. Possum, but I am sure he would be glad to let your dog have some.”
“That is very kind of you,” said Mother Hubbard.
“And I certainly would like orange cake,” spoke the dog, making a bow and wagging his nose—I mean his tail.
“Then you shall have it,” said Uncle Wiggily, opening the basket. He set the orange cake on the table, and the dog began to eat it, and Mother Hubbard also ate some, for she was hungry, too, and, what do you think? Before Uncle Wiggily, or any one else knew it, the orange cake was all gone—eaten up—and there was none for Dr. Possum.