"I am," she answered, "very happy. What do you think happened in the night?"
"I can't guess," he answered. "A burglar crow didn't come and steal your eggs, I hope!"
"Oh, nothing sad or bad like that," she answered. "But something very nice. Just hop up here and look."
So Uncle Wiggily hopped up on the stump, and Mrs. Wren got off her nest, and there, on the bottom, in among some egg-shells, were a lot of tiny, weeny little birdies, about as big as a spool of silk thread or even smaller.
"Why, where in the world did they come from?" asked the old gentleman rabbit, rubbing his eyes.
"Out of the eggs to be sure," answered Mrs. Wren. "And I do declare, the last of my family is hatched now. There is little Wiggily out of the shell at last. I think I'll name him after you, as he never could keep still when he was being hatched. Now I must take out all the broken shells so the birdies won't cut themselves on them." And she began to throw them out with her bill, just as the mother hen does, and then one of the new little birdies called out:
"Cheep-cheep-chip-chip!"
"Yes, I know you're hungry," answered their mamma, who understood their bird talk. "Well, I'll fly away and get you something to eat just as soon as your papa comes home to stay in the house. You know Mr. Wren went away last night to see about getting a new position in a feather pillow factory," said Mrs. Wren to Uncle Wiggily, "and he doesn't yet know about the birdies. I hope he'll come back soon, as they are very hungry, and I don't like to leave them alone to go shopping."
"Oh, I'll stay and take care of them for you while you go to the store," said the old gentleman rabbit, kindly.
"That will do very well," said Mrs. Wren. So she put on her bonnet and shawl and took her market basket and off she flew to the store, while Uncle Wiggily stayed with the new birdies, and they snuggled down under his warm fur, and were as cozy as in their own mother's feathers.