"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Uncle Wiggily, chuckling so hard that his pink nose twinkled like a lightning bug on Fourth of July.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Gobble Obble. "Won't you be good enough to hide me and the cranberry sauce until after Thanksgiving? Then I'll be safe."
"Of course you may stay here," said the bunny gentleman. "But the idea of thinking you can stop Thanksgiving by hiding yourself, or the cranberry sauce!"
"Can't I?" asked Mr. Gobble Obble, doubtful-like.
"Of course you can't!" exclaimed Mr. Longears. "Why, Thanksgiving doesn't mean just feasting on turkey, ice cream and cranberries!"
"It does at the house I ran away from," said Mr. Gobble Obble.
"Yes, and I suppose it does at many other houses," went on the bunny gentleman. "But Thanksgiving is really a time in which to be thankful for the things one has had to eat all the year—for that, and other blessings. The Pilgrim Fathers, who came over to live among the Indians, were thankful for even a little parched corn."
"What are Indians?" asked the turkey, who had never studied history.
"Wild men, who wore feathers such as yours," said Nurse Jane. "They are Indians."
"I'll tell you about the Indians some day," promised Uncle Wiggily. "Now we must talk more about Thanksgiving."