"If you please, Grandfather Frog, we want to know why it is that Unc' Billy Possum plays dead," replied Peter as politely as he knew how.
Grandfather Frog chuckled. "Just to fool people, stupid!" said he.
"Of course we know that," replied Striped Chipmunk, "but what we want to know is how he ever found out that he could fool people that way, and how he knows that he will fool them."
"I suspect that his mammy taught him," said Grandfather Frog, with another chuckle way down deep in his throat.
"But who taught his mammy?" persisted Striped Chipmunk.
Grandfather Frog snapped at a foolish green fly, and when it was safely tucked away inside his white and yellow waistcoat, he turned once more to his three little visitors, and there was a twinkle in his big, goggly eyes.
"I see," said he, "that you will have a story, and I suppose that the sooner I tell it to you, the sooner you will leave me in peace. Unc' Billy Possum's grandfather a thousand times removed was—"
"Was this way back in the days when the world was young?" interrupted Peter.
Grandfather Frog scowled at Peter. "If I have any more interruptions, there will be no story to-day" said he severely.
Peter looked ashamed and promised that he would hold his tongue right between his teeth until Grandfather Frog was through. Grandfather Frog cleared his throat and began again.