The Hollow Tree and Deep Woods Book Part 11

When dewdrops on the clover And tender gra.s.ses glitter!

When every shoot of lettuce That from the ground arises Gives promise of a salad-- Oh, month of sweet surprises!

You see Mr. Rabbit is a great gardener, and specially fond of young clover and tender salad.

Oh, sweet the month of April, When youthful chicks are hatching, And gayly in the meadows Around their ma are scratching!

The finest way to eat them In dumpling or in pies is-- Oh, here's to you, sweet April, With all your glad surprises!

Mr. Rabbit knew that the Crow would have chicken either in dumpling or pies, and anyhow he needed "pies is" to rhyme with "surprises," and when he came to those lines and sat down the others shouted and laughed and Mr. Crow pounded on the table and declared he couldn't have done better if he'd been a poet and written it himself! And the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum both pounded too and said "That's so! That's so!"

Then Mr. Crow shoved the R. T. pie over between Jack Rabbit and Mr.

Turtle and the pie that was marked P. C. between the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum. The C. X. pie he pulled up in front of himself, for of course he never even suspected that the top crust on them had been changed by the 'Possum.

The finest way to eat them In dumpling or in pies is--

he said, quoting Mr. Rabbit's poem,

Oh, here's to you, sweet April, With all your glad surprises!

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. TURTLE WAS WATCHING HIM PRETTY ANXIOUSLY.]

Then he told them not to be bashful, but to help themselves and remember there was plenty more where that came from. Just as he said this he picked up his knife and stuck it down deep into the C. X. pie. Mr.

'Possum picked up his knife and stuck it down deep into the P. C. pie, and Mr. Rabbit picked up his knife and stuck it into the R. T. pie and cut it in half. Mr. Turtle was watching him pretty anxiously, for he remembered what the 'Possum had said about a surprise, but when Jack Rabbit laid a smoking half with the gravy running out of it on his plate he forgot all about everything else.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEN, ALL OF A SUDDEN, HE DIDN'T WANT TO LAUGH ANY MORE.]

Mr. 'Possum didn't divide the P. C. pie just yet, but kept cutting as if it cut very hard, and talking a good deal while he cut. He said that, speaking of surprises, it used to be quite a fas.h.i.+on to fool people on the first of April, and that he'd known lots of the biggest kind of jokes played on people that day. The biggest jokes, though, he said, were those that came back on the people who played them, and that he knew one of that kind once that made him laugh now every time he thought about it. Then he did laugh some, and sawed away and said he guessed he'd struck a bone; and the 'c.o.o.n laughed, too, and Mr. Crow was nearly dying with trying to keep from laughing, for he thought Mr. 'Possum was sawing away on an old stick. He didn't want to let on, though, so he quit looking and commenced cutting his own pie. He laughed to himself and cut a minute, and then, all of a sudden, he didn't want to laugh any more, for he had cut a hole in the top of the C. X. pie and he saw something and smelled something that made him right sick. He looked over quick to Mr. 'Possum's plate, and what he saw there made him sicker yet.

For there lay a half of the P. C. pie, and Mr. Crow saw with one look that it was just as fine a chicken pie as ever came out of an oven.

Mr. 'c.o.o.n had a piece on his plate, too, and they were saying what a fine pie it was, and Mr. Turtle and Mr. Rabbit said so, too, and that Mr. Crow was certainly the finest cook in those parts.

THE STORY OF THE C. X. PIE

CONTINUED

WHAT HAPPENS TO MR. CROW AND HIS PIE

Poor Mr. Crow! You never saw anybody look as sickly and foolish as he did. He thought that he had made a dreadful mistake in marking the pies, and that now he had got to eat or pretend to eat the mess of old leaves and sticks that filled up the C. X. pie clear to the top. He never thought of Mr. 'Possum's changing the crust, and even if he had, he wouldn't have felt any better.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU'LL EVER KNOW JUST HOW BAD MR. CROW DID FEEL.]

I don't suppose you'll ever know just how bad Mr. Crow did feel, unless you get into a fix like that some time yourself. First he got hot and then he got cold, and the sweat began to break out on his bill like dew drops. He began to eat a little of the crust first, and then he was afraid if he ate the crust away the others would see what was inside of it, so he put his fork in and got a rolled up leaf with gravy on it and whisked it into his mouth and chewed and tried to swallow till his eyes stuck out and the tears ran down in a stream. He was glad that n.o.body seemed to be looking at him, for everybody else was too busy eating the nice pie, and Mr. 'Possum was just saying that he liked Mr. Crow's surprises, for he always surprised them by having something better than they expected.

Then he told how once, when they were snowed in, Mr. Crow had kept them all from starving by making a kind of bread called Johnnie cake, and some chicken gravy, and how they could never get him to tell where he got the things to make it of.[1] He said he thought maybe Mr. Crow would tell pretty soon, though, now. Then they all looked at Mr. Crow and begged him to tell his great secret, and when they looked they saw he wasn't eating his pie, but was just sitting there picking at it with his fork a little. They all told him not to be afraid to eat some of his own nice pie, for they were sure there'd be plenty, and Mr. Crow said in a weakly voice that when he cooked he never could eat very much. He said he guessed he'd take a biscuit and some syrup because he didn't feel quite well, anyway. So he pushed the C. X. pie away and ate a biscuit with b.u.t.ter and syrup on it, and felt a good deal better.

But pretty soon Mr. Turtle finished his piece and remembered what Mr.

'Possum had whispered about asking for a second helping. So he said he guessed he'd take another piece of that fine pie--just a small one to hold the other down. Mr. Rabbit said he guessed he'd have to ask for another small piece, too, it was so good, and the c.o.o.n and the 'Possum both said that, although they were home folks and used to Mr. Crow's good cooking, they certainly would have to take another little piece of that fine pie.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FAINTED DEAD AWAY.]

Then Mr. Crow knew there were only two things that he could do. He could either faint, or "holler" "Fire!" And, after studying for about half a second, he keeled right over and fainted dead away.

Of course that stopped the dinner for a while. Jack Rabbit and Mr.

Turtle jumped up frightened, and the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum pretended to be frightened, too. They all ran to Mr. Crow and carried him up stairs to his room and put him on his bed. Then Mr. 'c.o.o.n brought some water and Mr. Rabbit fanned him and Mr. Turtle unb.u.t.toned his vest to give him air. Mr. 'Possum he stood still and gave orders, and said pretty soon that he was sure a good strong hot mustard poultice would help matters.

When he said that Mr. Crow opened his eyes a little pinch and asked where he was, and then he said he guessed he must have fainted, for he'd been taken with a dreadful bad turn at the table and didn't remember any more.

Mr. 'Possum winked at Mr. 'c.o.o.n and said yes, that Mr. Crow had even forgot to give them a second helping of pie, but that he supposed Mr.

Rabbit and Mr. Turtle could go back and help themselves. Then the sweat broke out on Mr. Crow again, and he said he hoped they wouldn't, for it would be cold now and they would find the biscuits and syrup much better. Jack Rabbit said he thought so, too, and the 'Possum, who was really beginning to feel sorry for the poor Crow, said the same, and so did the others. So then Mr. Crow got better as quick as anything, and they all went back down stairs and ate the biscuits and syrup, which were certainly very fine. Once Mr. Rabbit wondered what that nice, leafy smell was that he got a whiff of now and then, and Mr. Turtle said he'd been thinking about that, too. Then Mr. 'c.o.o.n helped out and said that he s'posed it was Mr. Man and Mr. Dog burning brush over on the edge of the Wide Gra.s.s Lands, and he went on to make a little speech that was kind of a reply to Mr. Rabbit's poem. He said how nice it was to give one's friends pleasant surprises of good things as Mr. Crow had done, instead of unpleasant ones such as Mr. 'Possum had mentioned, and all the others said, "Yes, Yes!" and cheered him, all except Mr. Crow, who looked down into his plate and didn't say a word, but just seemed to be thinking and thinking.

And by and by, when Jack Rabbit and Mr. Turtle said goodby and went away, he hurried back to the table, and was just going to take the C. X.

pie up to his own part of the house, when Mr. 'Possum and Mr. 'c.o.o.n grabbed him and said they must have a piece of that pie, after all. And when Mr. Crow wasn't going to give it to them they both commenced to laugh and said it was their pie anyway, and that they meant to have it.

And right then Mr. Crow knew just what had happened, and that it was no use to be an April fool any longer. He stood still a minute, looking first at Mr. 'c.o.o.n and then at Mr. 'Possum. Then he walked to the window and flung the C. X. pie out as far as he could send it among the leaves and brush, where it belonged. The 'c.o.o.n stood on one side and the 'Possum on the other, and they watched it strike and roll out of sight before they said anything. Then Mr. 'c.o.o.n said that perhaps it would be a good time now to tell the great secret of the Johnnie cake and gravy, and Mr. Crow said he would do that and anything else they wanted him to if they'd promise they wouldn't tell this joke on him to anybody--Mr.

Rabbit and Mr. Turtle especially. Then he went right on and told them the great secret of the Johnnie cake, and the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum did promise, though they didn't intend to tell anyway, for they thought a great deal of Mr. Crow and they were all good friends.

"But, dear me!" exclaimed the story teller, "I've been telling for three evenings on this story, and here it is nine o'clock again."

"You'll tell some more to-morrow night won't you?" said the Little Lady, drowsily.

"We'll have a story about Mr. Jack Rabbit next time," said the story teller.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Three Friends, page 136.

MR. RABBIT EXPLAINS

AN EASTER STORY

"Now tell me the rabbit story," commanded the Little Lady on the next evening. "You know you promised to."

"So I did," said the Story Teller, "and it goes this way:--"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

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

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

"'Oh, but that's just a joke,' says Mr. 'c.o.o.n, laughing.

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