And, on the page after this, if the vegetable man doesn’t put an orange on our clothes post, for the pussy cat to play tag with, I’ll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and the cake of ice.
STORY XXI
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE CAKE OF ICE
“My goodness me sakes alive and a bushel of apple sauce!” exclaimed Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper, one evening. She had come out on the front porch of the hollow stump bungalow and was fanning herself with a cabbage leaf, left over from Uncle Wiggily’s supper.
“Why, what in the world is the matter, Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy?” asked the old rabbit gentleman, as he looked up at the tip of his ear to see if a mosquito was sitting there in a rocking chair. But none was, I am glad to say. “What is the matter, Nurse Jane?” he asked.
“Matter!” cried the muskrat lady, “it is so very hot! That is what’s the matter. And it will be warmer to-morrow!”
“How can you tell?” Uncle Wiggily wanted to know. “To-morrow is not here yet, and when it comes it will be to-day instead of to-morrow.”
“I suppose that is one of your jokes,” spoke Nurse Jane, as she tied her tail in two knots and part of another one, so she would not step on it when she danced the corn meal flop, which she and Uncle Wiggily did every evening. “Another joke, eh, Wiggy, about to-morrow never coming?” repeated Nurse Jane.
“Oh, I will have my joke once in a while,” chuckled the rabbit gentleman. “But what makes you think it is going to be so warm?” and Uncle Wiggily took a drink of boiled ice cream cone soda water, so he would not catch cold.
“I can tell it is going to be warm because the sunset is so red and fiery,” answered Nurse Jane, as she looked over toward the West, where the sun was going to bed.