"Wha—what—" he began.
"Nice bug," interrupted Old Mr. Toad. "Nicest bug I've eaten for a longtime."
"But I didn't see you catch him!" protested Peter, looking at Old Mr. Toad as if he suspected him of joking.
"Anything wrong with your eyes?" inquired Old Mr. Toad.
"No," replied Peter just a wee bit crossly. "My eyes are just as good as ever."
"Then watch me catch that fly over yonder," said Old Mr. Toad. He hopped towards a fly which had lighted on a blade of grass just ahead. About two inches from it he stopped, and so far as Peter could see, he sat perfectly still. But the fly disappeared, and it wasn't because it flew away, either. Peter was sure of that. As he told Mrs. Peter about it afterwards, "It was there, and then it wasn't, and that was all there was to it."
Old Mr. Toad chuckled. "Didn't you see that one go, Peter?" he asked.
Peter shook his head. "I wish you Would stop fooling me," said Peter. "The joke is on me, but now you've had your laugh at my expense, I wish you would tell me how you do it. Please, Mr. Toad."
Now when Peter said please that way, of course Old Mr. Toad couldn't resist him. Nobody could.
"Here comes an ant this way. Now you watch my mouth instead of the ant and see what happens," said Old Mr. Toad.