“What’s that? You’re going to put me in a bag? Oh, please, Mr. Farmer, don’t put me in a bag!” begged Blinkie. “I didn’t take any of your clover!”
“Ha! Ha!” laughed Winkie, as Blinkie sat up, rubbing her eyes. “You must have been dreaming that you were over in the field with Blunk, taking clover! I’m not a farmer, and I haven’t any bag. I just cried, ‘Tag! You’re it!’ Come on and play!”
“Oh, it’s you,” said Blinkie, not frightened now that she saw only her sister. “Yes, I was dreaming. And when you awakened me so suddenly I thought you were a farmer trying to catch me in a bag.”
“Well, come on and have a little tag game and you’ll feel better,” advised Winkie. “I can’t slide any more because mother wants to sleep. Let’s play tag!”
“You go and tag Blunk,” suggested Blinkie. “I’ll be wider awake after that, and then I’ll play. Go and tag Blunk.”
“All right,” agreed Winkie, who was very obliging. “I hope he hasn’t fallen asleep from eating too much clover,” she added.
But Blunk was wide awake. He was sitting up on his haunches, as a dog sits up to beg, and he was slowly nipping off the sweet clover tops and the tender leaves, chewing them very contentedly.
“Hello, Winkie! So you came over, after all, to get something to eat, did you?” asked Blunk.
“No, I came to see you,” replied Winkie. “Tag! You’re it!” she suddenly cried, tapping her brother with an extended paw, and then springing away before he could touch her. “Come on! Chase me!”
Blunk was fonder of games than was his sister Blinkie, who, to tell the truth, was a bit lazy. So when Blunk found he was “it,” he made up his mind not to stay that way any longer than need be.