What’s that?  You didn’t know ladies could whistle?  Well, this one could, and play the piano at the same time.  Out she came from the bushes, and she said: 

“Oh, Uncle Wiggily, I’m so glad to see you and the two little piggie boys.”

“Well, we are glad to see you, too,” said Uncle Wiggily, politely making his best bow, “but I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” said the lady.  “I make pies, and if you like I’ll make one now.”

“Will you, really?” cried Flop.  “Oh, I would dearly love an apple pie, with a bit of sour milk cheese.”

“Then you shall have it,” said the lady, as she trilled out a little tune by whistling until it sounded like a bird in the lilac bush.  “Have you any apples?” she asked, puckering up her lips.

“Yes!” exclaimed Flop.  “Here they are!” and he brought out a basketful.  The lady said they would make a lovely pie, so she rolled up her sleeves, and spoke, saying: 

“Now, I am sorry, but I would like you all to leave the bungalow.  You, Uncle Wiggily, and you, also, Flop and Curly.  For when I make apple pies I get all kerslostrated—­which means fussed—­if any one is around.  So kindly run away, and when you come back the pie will be ready for you.”

“All right; we’ll go,” said Uncle Wiggily.  “I’ll go pull my motorboat up on dry land, so it won’t get caught in the ice when the lake freezes this winter, and you boys can help me.”

So Curly and Flop went off to help Uncle Wiggily, and the pie lady—­ for such they called her—­started her baking.  She peeled the apples and cut them up, and then she got the piecrust mixed.  Uncle Wiggily had already built a fire so she did not have to do that.  And all the while she whistled and whistled, until it made you feel glad and happy just to hear her.  And when you smelled that apple pie baking—­ well, say!  I mustn’t write any more about that, or I’ll want to put my typewriter down cellar, and go out hunting for the lady myself.

Pretty soon Flop, who was helping Uncle Wiggily with the motorboat, sniffed the air, grunted once or twice, and said: 

“I smell something good!  I guess I’ll go see what it is.”

“All right,” said Curly, who was quite tired from having assisted his rabbit uncle to haul up the boat.  “I’ll stay here, Flop, and when you find the good thing that you smell, bring me some.”

So Flop promised, and he kept sniffling away, and the lovely smell grew plainer and plainer as he moved toward the bungalow, until he exclaimed: 

“Ah, I know what it is!  The pie lady!  Oh, I wonder if the pie is done?”

Nearer and nearer he went to the bungalow, and he heard a whistle, and then he saw the pie lady bustling around with a long apron on, and Flop asked: 

“Is the pie done?”

“Almost, little piggie boy,” she answered.

“You may wait for it to come out of the oven.  How old are you?”