“When are we going to eat?” asked Bushytail, after a while, and he spoke out loud.

“Hush!” cried Sister Sallie.  “You mustn’t ask that, Billie; it isn’t polite!”

“Well, I wanted to know,” said the little boy squirrel.

“Bless your heart!” exclaimed Aunt Lettie.  “Of course you do.  It must be time to serve the refreshments.  I’ll go ask Mrs. Wibblewobble.”

“I don’t want refreshments,” objected Billie, in a whisper to Sister Sallie.  “I’m hungry, and I want something to eat!”

“Hush!” cried his little sister again.  “Refreshments are good things to eat!”

“Oh,” said Billie, and just then in came Mamma Wibblewobble and Aunt Lettie and Mrs. Bushytail and Mrs. Littletail and Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, all of whom helped serve the good things to eat.

Oh, what a lot of refreshments there were, including maple sugar, hickorynut ice cream and chocolate-covered carrots, and cornmeal made into little balls with cocoanut marshmallow on the outside, and candied cabbage leaves, and water-cress flavored with spearmint, and the land knows what!

Well, those children at Alice’s and Lulu’s party ate so much it’s a wonder that they ever got home.  They had a lovely time, though Alice felt disappointed because the fairy prince didn’t come, and everyone wished Alice and Lulu many happy returns, and Bully, the frog, said: 

“When you have a party, Jimmie, I’m coming to that, too.”

“Sure,” answered Jimmie.  “I’ll have one next week, if mamma will let me,” for you see he found he liked parties better than he thought he would.

Well, they played some more games, including one called hide the peanut, and then it was time to go home; and now comes the queer part of it.  Just as they were all saying good-night, and Uncle Wiggily was looking for his crutch, there sounded out in the woods three blasts from a silver trumpet.  “Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra!”

You know, just like when the procession starts in a circus, and who should come riding up to the ducks’ house but a little boy, all dressed in silver and gold, with a long white plume in his hat and he was on a white horse.  Once more the trumpet sounded, and the boy called out: 

“Am I too late for the party?”

“Yes, you are,” said Uncle Wiggily, leaning on his crutch, which he found behind the door.  “But who are you?”

[Illustration]

“Me?  I am the fairy prince!” cried the boy, and the trumpets blew again.

“What?  Not the mud turtle fairy prince?” asked Alice, fanning herself, so she wouldn’t faint.

“The very same,” answered the boy.  “I got tired of being a mud turtle, but I am still a fairy prince!”

“I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily.  “You are only a little boy on a horse, and not a fairy prince at all!”

“Wait, and you shall see!” cried the boy, waving his hand, and the silver trumpet blew again, “Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra!” and the horse reared up on his hind legs.  “I certainly am the fairy prince, and to prove it I will do something wonderful.  Come to the woods to-morrow, Uncle Wiggily Longears, and see!”