“Murder,” growled Bill. “She gets in there under the foundation, and I can’t get in after her, then the minute I go away she’ll come out and run away.”
“Come on, Queenie,” called Jane. “Better to be in your cage than in the frying pan.”
“Stop that blood-thirsty talk,” said Billy making a face. “You know Mom was only fooling.”
Jane giggled. “Maybe she was, but don’t tell Queenie. She’s been a naughty girl, and she needs discipline.”
“This isn’t funny,” grumbled Billy. “You get on the other side of the house, and catch her when she comes out. I’ll chase her out with this long stick.” Jane looked dubious, and he continued: “And don’t let her slip through your fingers!” He waved his branch, and out streaked Queenie, right through Janie’s outstretched hands and into Landry’s flower bed. There she sat nibbling on asters, and every time they would get close enough to lay hands on her, she would dash off to another corner of the yard.
“I know what I’ll do,” said Billy. “You stay here and keep an eye on her, and I’ll catch her with my landing net.” Back he came in a few minutes with his long-handled net, but Queenie was gone. “Billy, I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t help it. I was looking right at her and she just disappeared.”
They scouted around the neighborhood, but no sign of a white rabbit.
“Maybe a dog ate her,” said Billy mournfully.
“Maybe she was run over by a car,” brooded Jane. They walked slowly out to the end of the lot where the hutch stood, and then they both stood open-mouthed in astonishment. There, on her bed of clover, sat Queenie eating a carrot!
“Well, mow me down,” said Billy when he could get his breath.