“Oh, they won’t break,” said Queen Bunny. “The eggs in Easterland are warranted not to break.”
And now the soft trill of a canary rippled from a tree,—a tiny tree, that a child could easily reach. Sure enough, there was the dearest little canary, perched on a branch, singing sweetly,—
“Come and see! come and see,
What Canary has for thee.”
There in the little nest were a lot of the tiniest eggs, and all bright yellow, just the color of Mrs. Canary herself.
“Oh, you gentle little thing—you so good to give me youh cunning little eggs.”
“Don’t mention it!” said Canary.
Then a white dove cooed from its house near by,—
“Coo-coo, you are true,
Come and take my gift for you.”
Her gift was six eggs, pure white, with just the tiniest little pink polkadots in them. While she was admiring them she heard a gentle purr, which seemed to come from the ground under her feet, and looking down she saw peeping from a moss-lined hole in the ground a pair of pink eyes, and a white, soft paw, as the voice of this Easter rabbit purred,—
“Put your hand into the ground,
And find what no one else has found.”