So Uncle Wiggily started off in his airship, which was made from one of Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy’s old clothes baskets, some toy circus balloons, a Japanese umbrella and an electric fan.
The old gentleman rabbit had not ridden so very far, sailing above the tree tops, as he was, before, all of a sudden, he heard a sad little voice crying:
“Oh, dear! Oh, isn’t that too bad? Oh, my poor Cora Ann Multiplicationtable!”
“Ha! Some one in trouble!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily, looking down. “I must see if I cannot help them.”
Then he saw Susie Littletail, the rabbit girl, sitting on a stump, and looking at something in her paws.
“It must be her doll,” thought Uncle Wiggily “For the doll’s name is Cora Ann Multiplicationtable. I’ll go down and see what is the trouble.”
Down he went, and he found poor Susie crying sadly.
“What has happened?” asked Uncle Wiggily, kindly.
“Oh, all the sawdust stuffing has run out of my doll,” said the little rabbit girl. “I was carrying her out to get the air, for she has been ill, and all of a sudden, one of her legs caught in a thorn bush, ripping a hole in the cloth. Out ran the sawdust before I could stop it. Look!” And Poor Susie held up Cora Ann Multiplicationtable. The doll was as limp and slimpsy as a sheet of blotting paper after it has fallen into the ink well.
“Oh, that is too bad,” said Uncle Wiggily, “but perhaps I can help you. I’ll try.”