Making Up with Mr. Dog, Page 4

  MR. RABBIT EXPLAINS

  AN EASTER STORY

  "WHY do we always have rabbits at Easter?" asked the Little Lady. "Isthat a story, too?"

  The Story Teller lit his pipe, thinking all the time, and pretty soon hesaid: "Why, yes, there is a story about that, and it goes this way":--

  One afternoon in the early spring Mr. Jack Rabbit and his friends wereout for an airing. The Hollow Tree people were along, and Mr. Turtle, asusual. By and by they came to a log under a big tree and sat down for asmoke and talk. They talked about the weather at first and other things,till somebody mentioned Easter. Then they all had something to sayabout that.

  "What I object to," says Mr. Rabbit, when it came his time to talk, "isthis thing of people always saying that the Easter eggs belong to me."

  "Oh, but that's just a joke," says Mr. 'Coon, laughing.

  "I know it's just a joke, of course, but it's a pretty old joke, and I'mtired of it," says Jack Rabbit.

  "How did it get started anyway?" asked Mr. 'Possum.

  Then Mr. Rabbit took his pipe out of his mouth and leaned forward alittle, so he could talk better.

  "I tell you how it got started," he says, "and after that I don't wantto hear any more of it. This is how it happened:--

  THEY CAME TO A LOG UNDER A BIG TREE AND SAT DOWN FOR ASMOKE AND TALK]

  "Once upon a time, as much as twenty grandmothers back, I should think,there was a very nice family of Rabbits that lived in a grassy place ona hillside back of a big farmyard. There was quite a hole in theground there, and they had a cozy home in it, and a soft bed for theirlittle folk.

  "Now, every bright morning, Father and Mother Rabbit used to take thechildren out for a walk, and for a few lessons in running and hidingfrom Mr. Dog, who bothered about a good deal, and one day as they werecoming home they heard a great cackling, and when they got to theirhouse there was a nice fresh egg lying right in the children's bed. Someold hen from the farmyard had slipped in and laid it while they weregone. A good many hens, especially old hens, like to hide their neststhat way, and this was one of that kind.

  "Well, of course all the young Rabbits claimed it, and Mother Rabbit atlast gave it to the smallest and weakest one of the children, a littlegirl, who was always painting things with the juice of flower petals.And the very first thing that little girl did was to stain that egg allover with violet juice, not thinking what trouble it was going to causeour family forever after.

  THEY HAD A COZY HOME AND A SOFT BED FOR THEIR LITTLEFOLK]

  "It was a nice blue egg when she got through with it, and the next day,when they all came back from their walk again there was another whiteegg right by it. The old hen had been there again and laid another whilethey were gone. The second little girl claimed that egg, of course, andshe painted it a bright yellow with buttercup juice. Then the next daythere was another egg, and the next day there was another egg, and thenext day there was another egg, until there was one apiece for every oneof the children, and some over.

  "And they all painted them. Some painted theirs pink or red with roseleaves or japonica, some painted them yellow with buttercups, and someblue or purple with violets, as the first little girl had done. They hadso many at last that it crowded them out of their bed and they had tosleep on the floor.

  A FEW LESSONS IN RUNNING AND HIDING]

  "And then, one Sunday, and it must have been Easter Sunday, they allwent out walking again, and when they came back every one of thosebeautiful colored eggs was gone. The children cried and made a greatfuss, but it was no use. Some of Mr. Man's boys out hunting hens' nestshad found them and taken them all home with them.

  "And of course all those colored eggs set Mr. Man to wondering, and hecame with his boys to the place where they had found them; and when theylooked in out jumped the whole Rabbit family, helter skelter in everydirection.

  "And right then," said Mr. Rabbit, leaning over to light his pipe fromMr. 'Possum's, "right then Mr. Man declared those colored eggs wererabbit eggs, and he's kept on saying so ever since, though he knowsbetter, and he knows I don't like it. He takes eggs and colors themhimself now, and makes believe they're mine, and he puts my picture allover things about Easter time. I suppose he thinks I don't care, but Ido, and I wish that little Miss Rabbit twenty grandmothers back had leftthat old hen's egg white as she found it."

  IT WAS A NICE BLUE EGG WHEN SHE GOT THROUGH WITH IT]

  "It's too bad," says Mr. Crow. "It's like that story they tell about thefox making me drop the cheese."

  "Or like Mr. Man making believe that the combs he uses are really madeout of my shell," says Mr. Turtle.

  Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum shook their heads. They had their troubles,too.