“Oh, I know where your little lost chickie is.”
Well, at first, that mamma hen didn’t know who the rabbit was, and she ruffled up her feathers, and puffed them out, and let down her wings, and she was going to fly right at Uncle Wiggily, but she happened to see who he was just in time and she said:
“Oh, thank you ever so much, Uncle Wiggily. I was so worried that I was just going down to the police station to see if a policeman had found her. Now I won’t have to go. Come along, children, little lost Clarabella is found. Uncle Wiggily found her.”
So she clucked to all the other children, and the rabbit led them toward where Clarabella was sitting on the rock with the porcupine.
And on the way a big, ugly fox leaped out of the bushes and tried to eat up all the chickens, and Uncle Wiggily also. But the old mother hen just ruffled up her feathers and puffed herself all out big again, and she flew at that fox and picked him in the eyes, and he was glad enough to slink away through the bushes, taking his fuzzy tail with him.
Then the rabbit hopped on and took the mamma hen to her little lost chickie on the rock, and the rabbit and the porcupine had supper that night with the chicken family and slept in a big basket full of straw next door to the chicken coop.
Then they traveled on the next day and something else happened. What it was I’ll tell you right soon, when, in case a little boy named Willie doesn’t crawl up in my lap when I’m writing and pull my ears, as the conductor does the trolley car bell-rope, the story will be about Uncle Wiggily and the wasp.
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE WASP
“What would you like for breakfast this morning?” asked Mrs. Hen, as Uncle Wiggily and the porcupine got up out of their bed in the clean straw by the chickens’ coop. This was the day after the rabbit found the little white chickie.
“Ha, hum! Let me see,” exclaimed the rabbit, as he waved his whiskers around in the air to get all the straw seeds out of them: “what would I like? Why, I think some fried oranges with carrot gravy on them would be nice, don’t you, Mr. Porcupine?”
“No,” said the stickery-stockery creature. “I think I would like to have some bread with banana butter on and a glass of milk with vanilla flavoring.”
“You may both have what you like, because you were so kind to my little lost Clarabella,” said Mrs. Hen. Then she spoke to her children.
“Scurry around now, little ones, and get Uncle Wiggily and his friend the nice things for breakfast. Hurry now, for they will be wanting to travel on before the sun gets too hot,” the mamma hen said.
So one little chickie got the oranges, and another chickie got the bananas, and still another chickery-chicken, with a spotted tail, got the carrots, and then Clarabella went to where Mrs. Cow lived, and got the milk for the prickly porcupine. Then Mrs. Hen cooked the breakfast, and very good it was, too, if I may be allowed to say so.