And pretty soon the porcupine came back with his basket full, and he and Uncle Wiggily shelled the peanuts—­I mean the cherries—­taking out the pits.

“Now I’ll put them in the pie, and put sugar on them, bake it in the oven, and soon it will be done, and we can eat it,” said the rabbit.

“Oh, joy!” cried the hedgehog.  “That will be fine!”

So Uncle Wiggily put the cherries in the pie, and threw the pits away, and he put the pie in the oven, and then he and Mr. Hedgehog sat down to wait for it to bake.  And oh, how delicious and scrumptious it did smell! if you will excuse me for saying so.

Well, in a little while, the pie was baked, and Uncle Wiggily took it from the oven.

“I can hardly wait to eat it!” cried the hedgehog, and just then there came a terribly loud knock on the door.

“Oh, maybe it’s that bad fox come for some of my pie!” exclaimed the hedgehog.  “If it is, I’ll stick him full of stickery-stickers.”  But when he went to the door there stood old Percival, the circus dog, and he was crying as hard as he could cry.

“Come in,” invited Uncle Wiggily.  “Come in, and have some cherry pie, and you’ll feel better.”  So Percival came in, and they all three sat down, and ate the cherry pie all up, and sure enough Percival did feel better, and stopped crying.

Then the circus dog and Uncle Wiggily stayed all night with Mr. Hedgehog, and they had more cherry pie next day, and it was very fine and sweet.

Now, if our cook makes some nice watermelon sandwiches, with maple syrup on them, for supper, I’ll tell you in the next story about Uncle Wiggily and old dog Percival, and why Percival cried.

STORY XVI

UNCLE WIGGILY AND PERCIVAL

Now I’m going to tell you, before I forget it, why old dog Percival was crying that time when he came to the little stone house where the hedgehog lived, and where Uncle Wiggily gave him some cherry pie.  And the reason Percival was crying, was because he had stepped on a sharp stone, and hurt his foot.

“But I don’t in the least mind now,” said Percival, after he had eaten about sixty-’leven pieces of the pie.  “My foot is all better.”

“I should think that cherry pie would make almost any one better,” said the hedgehog, laughing with joy, for he felt better, too.  “I know some bad boys to whom I’m going to give some cherry pie, and I hope it makes them better.  And to think I threw away the good part of the cherries and cooked the stones in the pie.  Oh, excuse me while I laugh again!”

And the hedgehog laughed so hard that he spilled some of the red cherry pie juice on his shirt front, but he didn’t care, for he had another shirt.

Well, Uncle Wiggily and Percival, the old circus dog, stayed for some days at the home of the hedgehog, and they had cherry pie, or fritters with maple syrup, at almost every meal.  Then, finally, Uncle Wiggily said: