So if the pussy 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.”