"Right you are!" cried the ice-cream-man in a jolly voice, and, say, I just wish you could have seen those cones! They were piled up heaping full of ice cream. Oh, my! It just makes me hungry to write about them.
Well, Uncle Wiggily, carefully carrying the cones, started to hop back to where he had left Grandfather Goosey. He hadn't gone far before he heard a growling voice cry out:
"Hold on there a moment, Uncle Wiggily!"
"Why?" asked the rabbit.
"Because I want to see what you've got," was the answer. "Ah, I see ice cream cones!" and with that a great, big, black bear jumped out of the bushes, and stood right in front of Uncle Wiggily.
"Let me pass!" cried the rabbit, holding the ice cream cones so that the bear couldn't get them.
"Indeed I will not!" cried the furry creature. "Ice cream cones, indeed! If there is one thing that I'm fonder of than another, ice cream cones is it! Let me taste one!"
Then before the rabbit could do anything, that bad bear took one ice cream cone right away from him. And that bear did more than that, so he did. He stuck his long, red tongue down inside the cone, and he licked out every bit of cream, with one, long lick.
"My but that's good!" he cried, smacking his lips. "I guess I'll try the second one," he said, and he dropped the empty cone, not eating it, mind you, and he took the other full cone away from poor Uncle Wiggily before the rabbit gentleman could stand on his head, or even wave his short tail.
"Oh, don't eat that cone. It belongs to Grandfather Goosey," cried the rabbit, sadly-like.