For three days and three nights Nibble Rabbit’s storm party stayed in the little Cornstalk tent in the middle of the Broad Field. The Terrible Storm might behave as badly as it pleased but they were having too good a time to care. And it might yowl as loudly as it could but they were making too much noise to listen. For they knew that no one was going to interrupt them.
When nobody could eat any more they began to amuse themselves. First of all they had a dance. The three partridges could drum with their wings and Nibble with his feet, for they learned it from the Indians. Gimlet the Woodpecker tapped with much spirit on an empty corn cob, and Chatter Squirrel called out the directions, while the mice did the dancing.
The little lady mice held their tails like trains, sweeping the ground when they curtseyed, but their partners cocked their tails to the left side, and Chatter got so excited that he waved his about in time to his commands and curled the tip of it when they bowed. And the partridges thought he was so funny that they nearly had to stop drumming to laugh at him.
When the mice were so breathless from whirling and twirling that they had to stop they urged Nibble to take a turn. “We’ve seen you,” they said, “on moonlight nights when we dance inside the Fairy Rings.” You see the mushrooms make little dance halls for the Fairies to use on Midsummer Eve. They have smooth, velvety grass on the inside with a circle of little cushiony stools around them. And the mice use them after the Fairies are through. Only they use the seats to hide under when Hooter the Owl flits past. They nibble them, too, for refreshments. You can see their toothmarks on every Fairy Ring you find after midsummer.
“I can’t dance,” murmured Nibble. He felt a bit embarrassed. Rabbits do try sometimes out in the brush where they think no one can see them, but they are very clumsy about it. “I never learned,” he explained.
“Dear me,” said a lively little mouse. “Why don’t you step into a Charmed Circle some night when the moon smiles? Then you can’t help dancing.”
“Yes indeed,” chimed in Chatter, who calls out their dances for the elves and so knows more about them than anybody else. “You know the May Moon draws the Circle as soon as the trees bud their leaves, so she can tell where there is no danger of their casting a shadow on the Great Ball. Some of the wee Wild Folk count shadows very unlucky. From then until it is over, tooth may not crop without singing, nor foot step there without dancing.”
“Yes,” finished the lady mouse. “So we take our children there until they have danced three turns. After that they never forget it. But we don’t like to let them eat. Singing is unlucky for a mouse. But dancing is so delightful.”
“It looks so,” said Nibble soberly, “but no rabbit can dance until he grows a tail.”
“Gracious,” said the lady mouse. “I’d forgotten you hadn’t—a regular one.” When she saw Nibble’s feelings weren’t hurt, she asked, “Do you mind telling us why?”