Uncle Wiggily in the Woods - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
"Why, this is queer. I can only see beaver tracks and rabbit tracks near the stump. Only you and I were here and we didn't take anything."
"But where is my b.u.t.ter?" asked Uncle Wiggily.
Just then, off in the woods, near the beaver house, came the sound of laughter and voices cailed:
"Oh, it's my turn now, Toodle."
"Yes, Noodle, and then it's mine. Oh, what fun we are having, aren't we?"
"It's Toodle and Noodle--my two beaver grandsons," said Grandpa Whack.u.m. "I wonder if they could have taken your b.u.t.ter? Come; we'll find out."
They went softly over behind a clump of bushes and there they saw Toodle and Noodle sliding down the slanting log of a tree, that was like a little hill, only there was no snow on it.
"Why, they're coasting!" cried Grandpa Whack.u.m. "And how they can do it without snow I don't see."
"But I see!" said Uncle Wiggily. "Those two little beaver boys have taken my b.u.t.ter that I left outside of your house and with the b.u.t.ter they have greased the slanting log until it is slippery as ice. That's how they slide down--on Nurse Jane's b.u.t.ter."
"Oh, the little rascals!" cried Grandpa Whack.u.m.
"Well, they didn't mean anything wrong," Uncle Wiggily kindly said.
Then he called; "Toodle! Noodle! Is any of my b.u.t.ter left?"
"Your b.u.t.ter?" cried Noodle, surprised like.
"Was that your b.u.t.ter?" asked Toodle. "Oh, please forgive us! We thought no one wanted it, and we took it to grease the log so we could slide down. It was as good as sliding down a muddy, slippery bank of mud into the lake."
"We used all your b.u.t.ter," spoke Noodle. "Every bit."
"Oh, dear! That's too bad!" Uncle Wiggily said. "It is now after 6 o'clock and all the stores will be closed. How can I get more?" And he looked at the b.u.t.ter the beaver boys had spread on the tree. It could not be used for bread, as it was all full of bark.
"Oh, how can I get some good b.u.t.ter for Nurse Jane?" asked the bunny uncle sadly.
"Ha! I will give you some," spoke a voice high in the air.
"Who are you?" asked Uncle Wiggily, startled.
"I am the b.u.t.ternut tree," was the answer. "I'll drop some nuts down and all you will have to do will be to crack them, pick out the meats and squeeze out the b.u.t.ter. It is almost as good as that which you buy in the store."
"Good!" cried Uncle Wiggily, "and thank you."
Then the b.u.t.ter tree rattled down some b.u.t.ternuts, which Uncle Wiggily took home, and Nurse Jane said the b.u.t.ter squeezed from them was very good. And Toodle and Noodle were sorry for having taken Uncle Wiggily's other b.u.t.ter to make a slippery tree slide, but they meant no harm.
So if the p.u.s.s.y cat doesn't take the lollypop stick to make a mud pie, and not give any ice cream cones to the rag doll, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Lulu's hat.
STORY XI
UNCLE WIGGILY AND LULU'S HAT
"Uncle Wiggily, do you want to do something for me?" asked Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper, of the rabbit gentleman one day as he started out from his hollow stump bungalow to take a walk in the woods.
"Do something for you, Nurse Jane? Why, of course, I want to," spoke Mr. Longears. "What is it?"
"Just take this piece of pie over to Mrs. Wibblewobble, the duck lady,"
went on Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy. "I promised to let her taste how I made apple pie out of cabbage leaves."
"And very cleverly you do it, too," said Uncle Wiggily, with a polite bow. "I know, for I have eaten some myself. I will gladly take this pie to Mrs. Wibblewobble," and off through the woods Uncle Wiggily started with it.
He soon reached the duck lady's house, and Mrs. Wibblewobble was very glad indeed to get the piece of Nurse Jane's pie.
"I'll save a bit for Lulu and Alice, my two little duck girls," said Mrs. Wibblewobble.
"Why, aren't they home?" asked Uncle Wiggily.
"No, Lulu has gone over to a little afternoon party which Nannie Wagtail, the goat girl, is having, and Alice has gone to see Grandfather Goosey Gander. Jiminie is off playing ball with Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys, so I am home alone."
"I hope you are not lonesome," said Uncle Wiggily.
"Oh, no, thank you," answered the duck lady. "I have too much to do.
Thank Nurse Jane for her pie."
"I shall," Uncle Wiggily promised, as he started off through the woods again. He had not gone far before, all of a sudden, he did not stoop low enough as he was hopping under a tree and, the first thing he knew, his tall silk hat was knocked off his head and into a puddle of water.
"Oh, dear!" cried Uncle Wiggily, as he picked up his hat. "I shall never be able to wear it again until it is cleaned and ironed. And how I can have that done out here in the woods is more than I know."
"Ah, but I know," said a voice in a tree overhead.
"Who are you, and what do you know?" asked the bunny uncle, surprised like and hopeful.
"I know where you can have your silk hat cleaned and ironed smooth,"
said the voice. "I am the tailor bird, and I do those things. Let me have your hat, Uncle Wiggily, and I'll fix it for you."
Down flew the kind bird, and Uncle Wiggily gave him the hat.
"But what shall I wear while I'm waiting?" asked the bunny uncle. "It is too soon for me to be going about without my hat. I'll need something on my head while you are fixing my silk stovepipe, dear Tailor Bird."
"Oh, that is easy," said the bird. "Just pick some of those thick, green leafy ferns and make yourself a hat of them."
"The very thing!" cried Uncle Wiggily. Then he fastened some woodland ferns together and easily made himself a hat that would keep off the sun, if it would not keep off the rain. But then it wasn't raining.
"There you are, Uncle Wiggily!" called the tailor bird at last. "Your silk hat is ready to wear again."
"Thank you," spoke the bunny uncle, as he laid aside the ferns, also thanking them. "Now I am like myself again," and he hopped on through the woods, wondering whether or not he was to have any more adventures that day.
Mr. Longears had not gone on very much farther before he heard a rustling in the bushes, and then a sad little voice said: