“Hello, Unc' Billy,” cried Peter. “How are you and Ol' Mrs. Possum?”
“Po'ly, Peter, Po'ly. We-uns haven't had breakfast yet, so we-uns are feeling po'ly,” replied Unc' Billy with a grin.
A sudden thought popped into Peter's head. “Unc' Billy,” cried Peter excitedly, “are you a Carnivora?”
Unc' poked his head a little farther out and put his hand behind his ear as if he were a little hard of hearing. “What's that, Bre'r Rabbit? Am I a what?” he demanded.
“Are you a Carnivora?” repeated Peter.
“Ah reckons Ah might be if Ah knew what it was, but as long as Ah don't, Ah reckons I ain't,” retorted Unc' Billy. “Ah reckons Ah'm just plain Possum. When Ah wants to be real uppity, Ah puts on an 'o.' Then Ah am Mister Opossum.”
But Peter wasn't listening. The fact is, Peter had started lipperty-lipperty-lip for school, without even being polite enough to say good-by. He arrived at school quite out of breath. “I know!” he panted. “I know!”
“What do you know?” asked Old Mother Nature.
“I know who it is who eats flesh, yet doesn't belong to the order of flesh eaters. It's Unc' Billy Possum!” cried Peter.
“Right you are,” replied Old Mother Nature. “However did you find it out?”