“Brer Rabbit say, ‘Ef dey ain’t nothin’ de matter wid Brer Fox he’ll git up in good time.’ Ol’ Miss Fox ’low, ‘La! I dunner what you call good time. Look at de sun—it’s ’way up yander, an’ dar he is sleepin’ like a log. ’Fo’ he went ter bed he made me take his head off, an’ he ain’t woke up sence.’ ‘An’ how did you git it off, mum?’ sez ol’ Brer Rabbit, sezee. ‘I tuck an’ tuck de ax an’ cut it off,’ se’she. Wid dat Brer Rabbit flung bofe han’s over his face, an’ mosied off like he wuz cryin’. Fum de way he look you’d ’a’ thunk his heart wuz broke; yit he wa’n’t cryin’.”
“Then what was he doing, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked.
“Des a-laughin’—laughin’ fit ter kill. When ol’ Miss Fox see ’im gwine long like he wuz cryin’, she spicion’d dat sump’n wuz wrong, an’ sho ’nuff ’twuz, kaze Brer Fox ain’t wake up no mo’. She ’low, ‘Ol’ honey look like he dead, but he better be dead dan outer de fashion!’
“I take notice, honey, dat you ain’t use yo’ hankcher yit. What de matter wid you? Is yo’ weeps all dry up?”
The child laughed and stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket.
“She dremp dat Brer Rabbit wuz laughin’ at ’er”