“Let Jimmie knock some more balls for us to catch.”

So he did, after Billie Bushytail had run to get the one that went over the tree, and brought it back.

Well, so the game went on, and pretty soon, oh, I guess it must have been about as long as it takes to eat two pieces of bread and butter, but not with jam on, mind you; I guess in about that time, it was Billie Bushytail’s turn to bat.  And just as he stepped up to hit the ball, if all the boy animals didn’t see something black moving along by the hedge fence.  It was black and round and shiny, this moving object was, and as soon as Sammie Littletail saw it he cried out: 

“Oh, there’s a bad fox.  Let’s see who can hit him.”

So they all caught up stones to throw at the bad fox, to drive him away.

Jimmie had the largest stone, and he could throw the straightest, so it is no wonder he hit the tall, round, shining black thing by the hedge.  But this is the funny part of it, that black thing wasn’t a fox at all.  No, siree!

It was Grandfather Goosey-Gander’s new tall hat, and that wasn’t at all funny, I do assure you.  And the worst part of it was that Grandfather Goosey-Gander was under that hat!  For, you know, a tall hat couldn’t walk along by a hedge, all alone its own self, now, could it?  Of course, I know it could if this were a fairy story, but it isn’t.

[Illustration]

Well, something dreadful happened.  The stone which Jimmie threw hit grandfather’s tall hat, went inside, just grazing the top of the old gentleman duck’s head, and then, what do you think?  Well, I don’t believe you could guess if you tried a week, so I’ll tell you.

That stone came out on the other side.  It went right through the hat, making a hole where it went in, and another hole where it came out.  Two holes; you could easily have counted them if you had been there.

Of course, as soon as Jimmie heard the noise, made by the stone which he threw, hitting the hat, he could tell by the plinkity-plunkity sound that there was going to be trouble.  And there was.

Grandfather Goosey-Gander jumped up in the air.  He uttered a loud quack, and then he took off his tall hat.  He looked at the two ragged holes in it, and then he looked over at the boys in the field.  He knew right away they had done it, but he didn’t know which one.  Jimmie, however, was a good boy, and he wasn’t going to have any one else blamed for what he had done.  So he ran to where his grandfather stood, sorrowfully looking at his hat, and Jimmie said: 

“I did it, grandpa.  I cannot tell a story.  I did it with my little stone.”

“Ha!  Hum!  Did you; eh?” cried Grandfather Goosey-Gander.  “Well, that’s a pretty bad thing to do, Jimmie.  This is my best hat.  I put it on to go down to the bank, to put money in.  I mean to put money in the bank, not in the hat, of course.  I always wear it when I go to the bank, so folks will know I am rich.  Now I can’t wear it any more.  It’s too bad!” And the old gentleman duck looked very sorrowful.