“To Grandma Bun I’ll hurry away,
To help her keep Thanksgiving Day.”
He had gone hippety-hop only a little way when he sat down on a stone to think.
To his surprise, the Market Basket he carried cried out:
“Will you buy a turkey while on your way,
For Old Mother Bun’s Thanksgiving Day?”
“Dear me! My fur and whiskers, I never thought about that!” he cried. “Of course I will—now that you suggest it!”
He rattled the pennies in his little bead purse. He rattled the dimes and quarters.
He went hippety-hop to the market and said: