“Look at my auto!” cried Curly Tail.
“It goes like everything!” and he wound
it up, and whizz! it went right at Uncle Wiggily.
“Hold on! Stop it! Don’t let
it bite me!” cried the old gentleman rabbit,
and he tried to get out of the way, but he slipped
on his broomstick crutch and fell down, and a piece
of prickly holly fell on him and tickled him so that
he sneezed.
“Look at my steam engine!” cried Flop
Ear. And he started it going, and all of a sudden
it darted right for Grandpa Squealer.
“Stop it! Hold it! Don’t let
it get me!” cried the old gentleman pig.
But the engine went right at him and ran over his toe,
but it didn’t hurt much, because it was so little—I
mean the engine was, not Grandpa Squealer’s
toe. But he slipped, too, and fell, and some
mistletoe got tangled in his paws, but that only made
everybody the more happy.
“Merry Christmas!” cried Uncle Wiggily.
“Merry Christmas!” grunted Grandpa Squealer,
and Mr. and Mrs. Twistytail and the children.
And from the outside the house all their animal friends
shouted the happy words, and the horns blew, and the
bells rang, and it was Christmas at last.
And so to one and all of you, children and big folks,
I wish you a Merry Christmas, ten thousand million
of them, and one more for good luck, and may you all
be happy! And Uncle Wiggily says the same thing.
So now, as there are as many stories in this book
as it can hold, even with pinching and squeezing,
if I tell you any more they will have to be printed
in another book. And the name of that will be:
“Bedtime Stories; Toodle and Noodle Flat-tail.”
The stories will be about some funny little beaver
boys, and the queer things they did. Uncle Wiggily
will be in that book, too, and so will many more of
your animal friends, not forgetting Grandpa Whacker,
the oldest beaver of them all.
So, until those stories are ready, which will be next
season, I’ll bid you all good-bye!
