Jimmy Skunk clapped a hand over each ear and pretended that he was going to run away. Peter jumped in front of him. "No, you don't!" he cried. "You've just got to tell me that story, Jimmy Skunk."
"What story?" asked Jimmy, as if he hadn't the least idea in the world what Peter was talking about, though of course he knew perfectly well.
"Caw, caw, caw, caw!" shouted Blacky the Crow from the distant tree-top.
"The story of how old Mr. Crow lost his tongue. You may as well tell me first as last, because I'll give you no peace until you do," insisted Peter.
Jimmy grinned. "If that's the case, I guess I'll have to," said he. "Wait until I find a comfortable place to sit down. I never could tell a story standing up."
At last he found a place to suit him and after changing his position two or three times to make sure that he was perfectly comfortable, he began.
"Once upon a time—"
"Never mind about that," interrupted Peter. "I don't see why all stories have to begin 'Once upon a time.' It seems as if everything interesting happened long ago."
"If you don't watch out, this story won't begin at all," declared Jimmy.
Peter looked properly ashamed for interrupting, and Jimmy started again.