LITTLE JACK RABBIT’S
BIG BLUE BOOK

If thru the air on radio wing

I’ve made a little child’s heart sing

I count it much as one who hears

The lovely music of the spheres.

Yours for a Story
David Cory
The Jack Rabbit Man

LITTLE JACK RABBITS
BIG BLUE BOOK
BY DAVID CORY

Home again, home again,
Thru the sunshine or the rain!
Tis the dearest place to stay
After you have played all day

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS · NEW YORK

Copyright, 1924, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

TO THE GROWN-UPS

Come with me, the little latch

Hangs outside the Bramble Patch.

You will find within this book,

If you will but take a look,

All the happy, care-free ways

Of your golden childhood days.

In the Kingdom of Little Animals every child is at home. That a dog can talk to his friends, that a rabbit may wear knickers or a little bird climb up a tiny stair inside a hollow tree trunk seem quite natural.

Every child is willing to take my hand and step over the border into Rabbit Country.

Come, you older ones, turn back the clock. Don’t you long for a moment to be once more in Make-Believe Land? Surely you will if you read the Little Jack Rabbit Books. You again will see yourself in the wistful eyes of the youngster at your knee as he listens to

Yours for a story,

David Cory,

The Jack Rabbit Man.

LIST OF BUNNY TALES

LIST OF PICTURES

“In the Spring,

The blue birds sing

And skies of blue

Smile down on you”

Sings—

Little Jack

Rabbit to

himself in the

mirror.

In the Big Blue Book

Little Jack Rabbit

Wears a Blue Necktie.

LITTLE JACK RABBIT’S
BIG BLUE BOOK

BUNNY TALE 1
THE WEDDING

Was some one knocking on the door of Uncle Lucky’s little white house on the corner of Lettuce Avenue and Carrot St., Rabbitville, U.S.A.? Well, I guess yes, three times. Maybe somebody has been knocking ever since Bobbie Redvest told me that a bad attack of rheumatism prevents the dear old gentleman rabbit from hearing unpleasant news. Well, anyway, when Uncle Lucky opened the door who do you think was standing on the mat? You’d never guess, not even if I told you he wore rubber boots and held a green umbrella in his hand.

It was Daddy Longlegs—yes, sir, that’s who it was.

“Goodness gracious meebus!” exclaimed the old gentleman rabbit, “are you wet?”

“Soaked to the skin,” replied the shivering, rubber-booted, long-legged insect. “Let me sit by the kitchen stove and warm myself. Maybe I’ll get dry in an hour or so.”

“Come right in!” cried dear, kind Uncle Lucky, leading the way into the kitchen where little Miss Mousie, the dear old gentleman rabbit’s tiny housekeeper, was drying the breakfast dishes.

“O sunny days, so sweet and warm,

I miss you very much.

I only hope the rheumatiz

My little toe won’t touch!”

sang Uncle Lucky, helping Daddy Longlegs pull off his rubber boots.

“Ha, ha!” laughed the old gentleman insect, stretching out his cold, damp toes:

“I love the cheerful kitchen fire,

And though it is so kind

To warm my frozen tippy toes,

I’m always cold behind.”

“Turn around once in a while,” replied Uncle Lucky, “that’s what I do!”

“Don’t set your coat tails on fire,” advised Little Miss Mousie, as she nibbled a piece of angel cake.

Pretty soon, the Old Red Rooster came in with the Bunnybridge Bugle, the nice morning paper that dear Uncle Lucky loves to read when breakfast is over.

Taking out a cabbage leaf cigar, he slipped his feet into his comfortable woolen slippers and, placing his gold-rimmed spectacles on his nose, sat down in his big arm chair.

Pitter, patter, went the rain

On the misty window pane;

While the fire’s cheerful glow

Warmed his poor rheumatic toe.

By this time Daddy Longlegs was nice and dry, so he, too, sat down to read by the fire, and Little Miss Mousie, seeing that nobody wished to talk, scampered back to her little house in the corner of the sitting room. As for the Old Red Rooster, he hurried out to the barn to mend the old wheelbarrow.

Pitter, patter, sings the rain

In a drowsy, soft refrain.

Ticker, tacker, on the leaves,

Dripping, dripping, from the eaves.

Tinkle, tinkle, on the pane,

Rings the wind-blown summer rain.

Pretty soon, Uncle Lucky fell asleep and when he woke up, Mr. Merry Sun was shining and Daddy Longlegs had gone.

“Oh, dear and oh, dear!” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, taking out his gold watch and chain, “I wonder what time it is.”

Then he sighed again and looked out of the window. But the postman wasn’t in sight, only the Old Red Rooster raking up the leaves.

“Well, well, well!” sighed lonely Uncle Lucky, for the third time, “what shall I do?”

“Sing a song,” suggested Little Miss Mousie, peeking out of her small front door in the far corner of the sitting room.

“Sing us two songs,” shouted the Old Red Rooster through the open window.

So down at the piano sat kind Uncle Lucky, and, after running his paws over the keys, commenced:

“When I was young and twenty,

And my hair was curly brown,

I loved a lady bunny,

The sweetest in the town.

One day I bought a ringlet

At the Three-in-One Cent Store,

And then that eve I called on her

And placed it on her paw.

But oh, the years have flown since then,

Way back in ’63,

And only my old wedding hat

Is left to lonely me.”

Then up jumped dear, tender-hearted Uncle Lucky, and wiping the tears in his left eye, took down his old wedding stovepipe hat and carefully dusted it off with his blue silk polkadot handkerchief.

All of a sudden the telephone bell began to ring.

“Who’s calling me?” inquired the old gentleman bunny, taking down the receiver and holding it up to his left ear.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said the next moment. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you—no, I don’t. You make me cross,” and with that Uncle Lucky hung up the receiver and hopped back to his big comfortable armchair.

“Who was it?” asked Little Miss Mousie, running across the floor to the piano stool, up which she climbed. Then, smoothing her bobbed hair, she smiled sweetly at the old gentleman bunny.

“Chatterbox, the red squirrel,” answered Uncle Lucky. “He has a funny story to tell me, but my rheumatism won’t listen to anything, so I excused myself. Dear me, how my little left hind toe aches. I must be careful or I’ll be full of crossness.”

“You’ll never be full of anything but kindness,” replied Little Miss Mousie, arranging the cushions in the big armchair. And she spoke the truth, don’t you think so, dear little girls and boys?

But poor Uncle Lucky couldn’t fall asleep again, nor could he eat the nice luncheon which Little Miss Mousie brought in on a silver tray.

By and by, after smoking a cabbage-leaf cigar, he said with a sigh, “I guess I’ll play a tune; maybe I’ll sing another song,” and hopping over to the piano, he turned the little stool around three times and a half, and commenced to sing:

“When she was only sweet sixteen

I loved a little rabbit queen.

Her eyes were pink as any rose,

And even pinker was her nose.

And pinker far her ears inside,

And when she said she’d be my bride,

I bought a lovely wedding ring,

And we were married in the spring.”

“Heigh ho, how the years go!” sighed the old gentleman rabbit and, taking out his gold watch and chain, he suddenly exclaimed: “Goodness gracious meebus! It’s almost time for the wedding!”

Quickly putting on his old wedding stovepipe hat, he hopped out of his little house.

You see, his dear bunny niece, pretty Lady Love, had decided to get married and settle down in the Old Bramble Patch. Perhaps that’s why Uncle Lucky sang the song about the pretty rabbit queen.

And now I’ll tell you about the wedding. All the Shady Forest folk were there, of course, and so were the Sunny Meadow people.

“Its almost time for the wedding”

Old Mrs. Bunny had put her house in apple-pie order, and after the wedding in the Shady Forest, and Parson Owl had given Lady Love, the pretty little lady bunny, to Mr. Rabbit to care for all the rest of his life, everybody started back to the Old Bramble Patch. Goodness me, it was a long procession! Squirrel Nutcracker, the Big Brown Bear, Granddaddy Bullfrog, Grandmother Magpie, Busy Beaver, Sammy Skunk, the Old Brown Horse, Mrs. Grouse, Chippy Chipmunk, the Stage Coach Dog, the Old Red Rooster, the Yellow Dog Tramp, the Policeman Dog, Old Barney Owl, the Circus Elephant, the sure-footed little Mountain Goat, and all the Barnyard Folk. Everybody was anxious to see the little house that dear Uncle Lucky had built for Lady Love.

Well, when they all reached the Old Bramble Patch, there stood dear Uncle Lucky on the front porch, his old wedding stovepipe hat in his front paw and his big diamond horseshoe pin in his pink cravat. Yes, sir, there he stood, bowing and smiling just as if it were his own wedding day and not somebody else’s, as Mr. Rabbit and Lady Love hopped up the path and into the house to stand under a big horseshoe wreath of clover and shake hands with all their friends.

Just as everybody had finished looking at the wedding presents, and dear Uncle Lucky was saying, “Bless you, my children!” Danny Fox peeped into the window and shouted: “Don’t be frightened! Here’s a diamond necklace for Lady Love.” Then away he ran, knowing that nobody wanted him around; for he is a dreadful robber, you know, and robbers aren’t invited to a wedding. They come later to

Your little Harlem Flat

To steal your high top hat.

At last, when the lollypop juice was all gone, and the grasshopper orchestra tired of playing, somebody called on Uncle Lucky for a song.

“My dear old wedding hat

I’ve worn for forty year.

I’ve smiled and laughed beneath its brim

And sometimes shed a tear.

But, oh, it hardly seems to me

It was way back in ’63

I wore it on my wedding day,

When I was frisky, young and gay,”

sang the old gentleman rabbit, wiping a tear from his left eye with his blue silk polkadot handkerchief. Then kissing the bride good-by, he stopped for a moment to hang up an old horseshoe on the front porch and then led the guests away, leaving pretty Lady Love and Mr. Rabbit to fill the little white bungalow with happiness in the years to come.

By and by a little rabbit boy came to make their dream come true. As soon as the glad news was telephoned to dear Uncle Lucky, that happy old gentleman rabbit hopped into his Luckymobile and started off as fast as a comet for the little white bungalow.

All the way over he honked the horn to bring out all the Shady Forest Folk from their tree houses and burrows.

“What’s the matter?” asked Squirrel Nutcracker from his Old Tree Lodge.

“Lady Love has a little boy rabbit!” answered Uncle Lucky.

“What’s all the noise about?” inquired Busy Beaver, swimming up to the bank of the Shady Forest Pool.

“Lady Love has a little rabbit boy!” answered Uncle Lucky.

“Stop blowing that horn!” snapped Grandmother Magpie from her perch in the tall pine tree.

“Not for a minute,” shouted back dear Uncle Lucky. “Lady Love has a little boy rabbit.”

“Are you going crazy?” asked the Big Brown Bear as the Luckymobile whizzed by the Cozy Cave.

“No, I’m going to see my little grandnephew,” answered Uncle Lucky. “Lady Love has a baby rabbit.”

“You’ll wake up my babies,” cried Mrs. Bobbie Redvest, as the Luckymobile rushed past the Apple Orchard.

“Never mind,” shouted back Uncle Lucky. “Tell ’em there’s a new baby at the Old Bramble Patch. Lady Love has a little boy rabbit.”

“Goodness me, what a noise!” croaked Granddaddy Bullfrog, as Uncle Lucky circled the Old Duck Pond. “Has the old gentleman rabbit lost his wits?”

“Not yet,” answered dear Uncle Lucky. “I’m off for the Old Bramble Patch to see Lady Love’s little boy rabbit. He just came to-day.”

“Where are you going?” asked Chippy Chipmunk, as Uncle Lucky sped by the Old Chestnut Tree.

“To see Little Jack Rabbit, Lady Love’s baby,” answered the old gentleman rabbit.

And so it went. Everybody wanted to know what was the matter, and when Uncle Lucky finally reached the dear Old Bramble Patch he had told the glad news to every single solitary person in the Shady Forest and Sunny Meadow.

BUNNY TALE 2
HUNGRY HAWK

“Hush, little rabbit, go to sleep.

Up in the sky the pretty stars peep;

Down in the meadows the clover tops

Are winking away at the lollypops,”

sang Lady Love, as she rocked the cradle in which lay Little Jack Rabbit.

Out in the kitchen Old Mrs. Bunny, who had come over for the day, was baking cabbage cake and Mr. Rabbit was reading in the Bunnybridge Bugle a story about the new baby rabbit in the Old Bramble Patch.

“Look, mother!” cried the proud rabbit father, turning the paper toward the good lady bunny.

“Well, I declare!” she exclaimed. “There’s his picture as sure as I’m a grandmother and you’re my son.”

Yes, sir! On the front page was a picture of Little Jack Rabbit, and underneath, in big purple letters:

“A new arrival at the Old Bramble Patch. Lady Love has a baby boy bunny. Carrot City, Bunnybridge, Lettucemere and Turnip City papers please copy.”

“It makes me as proud as a peacock to see it in the paper,” laughed Mr. Rabbit. “And to think that Little Jack Rabbit will soon be old enough to hop about the Sunny Meadow and through the Shady Forest.”

Just then in came Timmie Meadowmouse to see the new little bunny boy.

“Little Jack Rabbit is asleep,” explained his careful father. “Why didn’t you come early this afternoon? You ought to know, Timmie Meadowmouse, that little bunny babies are asleep by this hour.”

“What time is it?” asked the little Meadowmouse “I left my watch home.”

“It’s six o’clock and Merry Sun

Is hiding behind a tree;

It won’t be long before he will glide

Into the western sea,”

answered the cuckoo from her little clock house.

“There! It’s six o’clock. You’d better look out for Hungry Hawk. You should be home by this time,” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit.

“Can’t I have a peep at your little bunny?” asked the tiny meadowmouse, holding his cap in his left paw as he turned the brass doorknob. “I want to tell the Sunny Meadow People I’ve seen him.”

“Come along, then, on your tiptoes,” answered Mr. Rabbit, leading the little meadowmouse to the bedroom where the bunny baby lay sound asleep.

“S-s-s-s-h!” whispered Lady Love from the rocking chair close by, as Timmie Meadowmouse stood on his hind legs to peep into the cradle.

“He’ll be running about in a day or two,” chuckled Mr. Rabbit, as he said good night to Timmie Meadowmouse. “He’ll be out with Uncle Lucky in no time.”

“He’s over at the barnyard, talking to Old Sic’em.”

And that’s just what happened a few weeks later when Uncle Lucky, hopping out of his Luckymobile and into the Old Bramble Patch, shouted:

“Where’s that grandson of mine?”

“He’s over at the Barnyard, talking to Old Sic’em,” answered Mr. Rabbit from the front porch.

“Please call him home,” begged anxious Lady Love.

“Have you polished the doorknob clean and bright,

And brought in the kindling wood?

I think I hear the canary bird

Crying for breakfast food,”

she said, as her bunny boy hopped up to the kitchen door.

“Dear, oh, dear!” answered the truthful little rabbit, “I forgot all about her. But I filled the woodbox and polished the doorknob, Mother dear.”

“Give me the watering can,” said the kind Old Red Rooster. “You attend to Little Miss Canary.

She’s a pretty little fellow

In her feather dress of yellow,

And she sings so clear and sweet

From her tiny wooden seat!”

“My, where did you learn to talk in poetry?” asked the bunny boy, handing over the big green watering pot.

“I’ll tell you some day when I have more time,” replied the Old Red Rooster. “Now, mind your mother. Hop along and feed the little birdie!”

Away went the bunny boy, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, to give the pretty canary her breakfast. After which she stood tiptoe on the edge of the porcelain drinking cup, tilting back her head to let the drops of water trickle down her feather-ruffled throat.

“Would you believe it, Little Jack Rabbit is growing so fast we have to call up the Three-in-One-Cent Store twice a week for a new suit of clothes? If he keeps on growing like this he’ll be in long pants before Easter,” explained sweet Lady Love to the old gentleman rabbit.

“Ha, ha!” laughed dear Uncle Lucky. “I remember you grew mighty fast. It seemed I had hardly given you a lollypop rattle when it came time to give you a cherry-stone necklace.”

Just then the Old Red Rooster began to crow:

“Oh, things have changed in the Bramble Patch,

I’ve scarcely a moment’s time to scratch;

With Little Jack Rabbit to teach and learn

I’ve hardly the time my wage to earn.”

“Did you ever!” laughed Old Mrs. Bunny from the kitchen door. “One would think the Old Red Rooster was a busy person! He’d rather rest on his hoe and talk to Little Jack Rabbit than weed the garden. My, but he’s a lazy fowl!”

“Never mind,” answered Uncle Lucky, hopping around the little white house. Not far away Little Jack Rabbit and the Old Red Rooster were feeding the pigeons, who had flown down from their pretty house on the top of a tall pole.

“Hey, there, young rabbit!” cried Uncle Lucky. “Don’t pull the tail feathers out of the Old Red Rooster’s swallow tail coat!” You see, Little Jack Rabbit was making believe the good-natured rooster was a horse and he was driving him to the station at Bunnybridge.

“Where have you been?” asked the little bunny.

“Oh, I’ve just come in from a drive,” answered Uncle Lucky. “I had some business to attend to in Carrot City.”

“When are you going to take me for a ride?”

“Wait a little longer till you’re big enough to look out for yourself,” answered wise old Uncle Lucky. “There’s no telling when Danny Fox or Old Man Weasel may pop out from behind a tree. You’re safer here in the Old Bramble Patch for a while yet.”

All of a sudden the Old Red Rooster gave a warning. Quick as a wink into the Little Red Barn hopped the two bunnies, Uncle Lucky first, Little Jack Rabbit next and last, but just as fast, the Old Red Rooster.

Closing the door, they peeped out through a knothole. There in the back yard stood Hungry Hawk.

“Ha, ha! Ha, ha!” cried Hungry Hawk,

As he flew at the door with a dreadful squawk,

“This Little Red Barn’s a pretty good place

For rabbits to hide from my grinning face.”

And, hopping around the barn, that old robber bird peeked in through every crack. By and by he came to quite a large knothole. Oh, dear me, yes! It was big enough for his head, and then it seemed almost large enough for his body.

“Goodness gracious meebus!” exclaimed anxious Uncle Lucky, “I’m afraid that old bird will squeeze in.”

“Wait a minute, hold your breath,

Don’t you sneeze or titter,

I’ll show that dreadful robber bird

That I’m a home run hitter,”

whispered the Old Red Rooster, and the next minute he had crept over on his tiptoes to the tool closet for the big heavy wooden mallet.

Hungry Hawk didn’t notice the Old Red Rooster. No, siree, ma’am! He was too busy pushing and shoving, and shoving and pushing. He surely thought that pretty soon he’d be in the barn, feasting on two nice rabbits and maybe a fat rooster.

How he did squirm and twist and twist and squirm! Dear me! I hope he doesn’t get both his wings through the knothole before the Old Red Rooster can swing the big wooden mallet. Because, if once inside, Hungry Hawk will put up a dreadful fight and maybe get the best of the two little rabbits and the Old Red Rooster.

Dear me! again. I wish I could tell the Kind Policeman Dog over the wireless what is going on in the Little Red Barn. He wouldn’t wait a minute. No, sireemam! He’d come with his hickory stick and knock Hungry Hawk’s tail right off before the Old Red Rooster had time to swing the big wooden mallet.

But there’s no use wishing for things. Just get out and get them! That’s the way. So, here we go! Old Red Rooster, hurry up! And that’s just what he did.

Whack! Down came the wooden mallet on Hungry Hawk’s head. Whew! How mad he was!

Whack! Again the Old Red Rooster tickled the wicked hawk’s head.

“Give him another!” shouted Uncle Lucky, hiding Little Jack Rabbit behind his coat tails. “Hit him again, and three times more!”

Now, let me see. What did Hungry Hawk do after Uncle Lucky shouted to the Old Red Rooster; “Hit him again!” Well, what would you think he’d do? First, he hid his head under his wing; then he tried to squeeze back through the knothole. But he couldn’t, for his feathers turned up at the end and made him bigger than ever.

“I don’t want to break your head,” said the Old Red Rooster. “This wooden mallet is pretty hard. But if you think you’re going to eat Uncle Lucky or Little Jack Rabbit or yours truly, you’ve made a mistake.”

“You bet you have!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky. “You better go home to Mrs. Hawk and lead a better life hereafter.”

“Dear me! I wish I could,” answered Hungry Hawk, “I’ve got an awful headache. The Old Red Rooster hit me three times with the wooden mallet.”

Just then who should hop into the barn but the Policeman Dog. I wonder how he found out what was going on?

“You wicked bird! I’ve a good notion to shoot you,” he shouted, pulling his gun from his hip pocket.

“Don’t shoot!” begged Hungry Hawk, his tail feathers twitching and his eyes blinking with fright. My, but he was scared. For that Policeman Dog’s gun was a warlike looking weapon, let me tell you. The handle was red and the barrel black and the bullet as yellow as a dandelion.

“I’ll take three minutes to think about it,” answered the Policeman Dog. “But what are you going to do? You can’t get out and you can’t get in, I guess you wish you were thin as a pin.”

Just think of a Policeman Dog making up poetry at a dangerous time like this. Well, I never.

“I’m worried enough to grow thin,” answered Hungry Hawk. “Besides, I’m dreadfully uncomfortable.”

“I’ve got an idea,” suddenly exclaimed wise Uncle Lucky, “I’ll knock out the board. Maybe it will split in two and free the old bird.”

“Please be careful,” begged Hungry Hawk, as the old gentleman rabbit lifted the heavy wooden mallet, “please don’t make a mistake and hit me.”

“One, two, three!” sang out Uncle Lucky, and down came the mallet, whack! against the board. The next minute Hungry Hawk found himself by the woodpile. But, dear me! The board hadn’t cracked open. No, the nails had just pulled out of the Big Red Barn.

All of a sudden the old hawk gave a tre-men-dous squirm and away he flew, with a whirr of wings, above the Sunny Meadow.

“I guess he won’t bother little rabbits for some time,” cried Uncle Lucky. But, children dear, I’m sorry to say, a little further on in the book he does something dreadful.

Oh, hawks are very crafty things,

They fly about on silent wings,

And if, perchance, a little rabbit

Is heedless of a watchful habit,

He’ll find too late some sunny morning

He should have followed mother’s warning.

BUNNY TALE 3
THE LOLLYPOP TREE

“I must run up to see the Big Brown Bear,” thought Little Jack Rabbit, looking up at Mr. Merry Sun shining in the Blue Sky Country.

“I want you to hop down to the Three-in-One-Cent Store for a clothes-pin,” said Lady Love, his pretty bunny mother.

“All right, mother dear,” answered the little rabbit, tucking the napkin under his chin and helping himself to a big slice of carrot cake.

My, what a nice breakfast his bunny mother had made for him—carrot cakes with lollypop syrup, turnip tea and lettuce marmalade.

As soon as the little rabbit had brought in the kindling wood, fed the canary and polished the front door knob, he kissed his pretty bunny mother good-by and hopped down the winding path through the brambles to the Sunny Meadow.

Peeking out of his little front door stood Timmie Meadowmouse.

“Hello!” said Little Jack Rabbit, stopping before the tiny, round grass-ball house, hung on three stiff stalks of grass about six inches above the ground, “Where do you think I’m going?”

“Well, wherever you’re going,” answered the timid meadowmouse, peering anxiously out of the small round hole that serves for his front door, “you’d better look out for Danny Fox.”

“Oh, I will,” replied Little Jack Rabbit. “And I’ll bring you a lollypop, ’cause I’m going up to see the Big Brown Bear and the Lollypop Tree. Good-by,” and away hopped the little bunny, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, up the Old Cow Path in the Sunny Meadow and over the hill top until, by and by, not so very long, he came to the Shady Forest, where he paused for a moment to inquire how Mrs. Nutcracker was getting along.

“Very nicely, thank you,” replied old Squirrel Nutcracker, dropping a handful of nuts in the little rabbit’s pocket. “She’ll soon be around again.”

“I’m glad of that,” answered the kind-hearted little bunny boy, “mother sends her love,” and off he hopped up the Shady Forest Trail.

As he passed the pool in which Busy Beaver has his home, he stopped to say “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself!” shouted back the little beaver. “How are all the folks?”

“Pretty well, except dear Uncle Lucky Lefthindfoot,” answered the little bunny rabbit boy. “He has the rheumatism in his left hind toe and Dr. Quack says it will be some time before he can do a toe dance.”

B.B.BEAR
“That’s a good lad” laughed Big Brown Bear.

“Shouldn’t wonder,” laughed the happy little beaver, giving his big broad tail a sudden flap, sending the spray all over the little rabbit boy bunny’s fur coat, “but why should Uncle Lucky want to do a toe dance, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” replied the little rabbit, wiping the water drops off his coat sleeve. “You’ve splashed me all over, Busy Beaver, yes, you have,” and away went the little rabbit, for it was nearly a mile and a whistle and a smile to Cozy Cave where the Big Brown Bear sold

Ice cream cones and lollypops,

Licorice sticks and Sweet Corn Pops,

Peppermints and ’Lasses Drops.

Dear me! Doesn’t that sound delicious? If only I had the time I’d leave my typewriter to run over to the Big Brown Bear. Would you come with me, little reader? I guess you would, and so would your little brother Jimmy.

Well, now where was I before I began to dream? I was on my way to Cozy Cave for a gum drop? Oh, yes, Little Jack Rabbit had stopped before I had even started, so I’ll tell you without digressing further, which means to go off sideways—what the little bunny did.

“Where you going?” asked Chippy Chipmunk, running along the top of the Old Rail Fence, his red striped jacket shining in the morning sun and his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“To the cozy cave of the Big Brown Bear,

And the Lollypop Tree just over there.”

“Bring me a lollypop,” shouted Chippy Chipmunk as the little rabbit boy hopped up the Shady Forest Trail, in and out among the trees, where Billy Breeze whistled amid the leaves.

By and by, way, way yonder, he could just make out the comfortable figure of the Big Brown Bear sitting in front of his cozy cave, smoking a corncob pipe.

“Hello! hello!” shouted the little rabbit, waving his red-striped candy cane. “Are you there, Mr. Bear?”

“No, I’m here,” chuckled the big good-natured, furry-coated animal, “but just keep on, you’ll find me all right.”

“How’s mother?” he asked, taking the old corncob pipe from between his beautiful white pearly teeth, as the breathless little rabbit stood before him.

“She’s well, thank you,” panted the little bunny boy, looking up at the lollypops as they winked their purple-pinky eyes from the branches of the Lollypop Tree.

“Did you do your three chores for mother this morning?” enquired the Big Brown Bear, although the little bunny boy wished to goodness gracious he would stop asking questions and give him a lollypop.

“Oh, yes, oh, yes!” answered the wistful-eyed little rabbit.

“You polished the front door knob, fed the canary and brought in the kindling wood?” continued the questioning old bear.

“Oh, yes, oh, yes,” repeated the little bunny boy rabbit, only this time he shouted it.

“That’s a good lad,” laughed the Big Brown Bear, handing a pink lollypop to his little long-eared caller. “Have a lollypop!”

And then, would you believe it, that big bear put away his pipe and began to suck a green lollypop. Just fancy that if you can! Pretty soon he said with a smile, “Want another?”

“Have you any left?” asked the bunny boy, oh, so wist-ful-ly.

“Well, I’ll see,” answered the Big Brown Bear, rising to his feet and ambling into the cozy cave. But, oh, dear me! the only things he found were a popcorn ball and an empty ice cream cone.

“Goodness gracious!” he exclaimed, coming out again into the sunlight, “I guess I’ll have to climb the Lollypop Tree.”

It didn’t take him long to swing himself up, and as he climbed higher and higher, the little rabbit watched him anxiously. Pretty soon the Big Brown Bear reached the branches where the lollypops grow in a rainbow row.

“Do you want that nice pink one?” he asked, looking down into the little rabbit’s upturned face.

“Oh, yes!” shouted the bunny boy. “And that green one, too, and that one all blue, and maybe a purple one for you.”

Carefully picking off the lollypops, the big kind animal shoved them into his coat pocket. Then sliding down the tree, he walked over and sat down on the big wooden bench.

“Come, hop up beside me. We’ll sing the lollypop song!” and moving over to one side to make room for the little rabbit he held up the purple lollypop. Then the little bunny held up the pink lollypop, and, both together, all at once, just at the same time, they shouted:

“Hip, Hip, Hurray,

I lick a lollypop every day.”

Pretty soon the lollypops were licked all to pieces—nothing was left but the two little sticks.

“Well, well,” chuckled the Big Brown Bear, taking out of his pocket the green and blue lollypops. Then he and his little bunny friend held them up in the same way, singing all over again the lovely lollypop song, and when only the little sticks remained, the Big Brown Bear asked with a smile: