So that is all now, if you please, but on the next page, in case the sewing machine doesn’t pull all the threads out of my little dog’s hair ribbon, I’ll tell you about Floppy and the bon fire.

STORY XXVI

FLOPPY AND THE BONFIRE

One night, after an election in Woodland, where the Twistytail family of pigs lived, Curly, one of the piggie boys, asked his brother Floppy if they couldn’t have some fun.

“I guess so,” spoke the other little piggie.  “I have a big pile of leaves, so why can’t we make a bonfire?”

“The very thing!” cried Curly Tail.  “There are always bonfires after election, and we’ll have ours now.”

“And we’ll invite all the other animal boys to help us,” suggested Curly Tail.  “Sammie Littletail will want to come, I know, and so will the squirrel boys, and Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck, and the Bow Wow puppy boys.”

So, as it was after school, and they had done their home work lessons, the piggie boys could run out and play.  In a vacant lot, not far from their house, Flop Ear had collected a big pile of leaves, ready for the fire, and he said to Curly Tail: 

“Now, if you go get the other fellows, I’ll find some more leaves, and some old boxes and barrels and we’ll have a fine big fire.”

“All right, I will,” agreed Curly Tail.  So off he ran over the fields and through the woods to call all his friends to the bonfire which Flop Ear was going to make.

“Now for a surprise!” exclaimed the little piggie boy who was left near the pile of leaves.  “I’ll look for some potatoes and I’ll put them to roast in the bonfire and when it is all over we’ll eat them, and sit about the blaze, telling stories about the election.”

So he crawled through a fence into a field near by, where there were some late potatoes, and soon, with his strong, rubbery nose, he was rooting them up.  The field belonged to Grandfather Goosey Gander, and Flop knew the old gentleman goose would not mind if the boy animals took a few potatoes.

“Now to make the fire and roast them,” spoke the little piggie boy, and when he had shoved the leaves all up in a heap with his nose he lit them with a match.

“Won’t Curly Tail and the others be surprised when they come up, and see the fire already going?” thought Flop Ear.  “And they’ll be more surprised when I pull out the roast potatoes for them.  Oh!  I almost forgot!  I must get some salt to eat on them.”

Into the house he ran, with his queer little kinky tail twisting around like a piece of strawberry shortcake, and Floppy got the salt.  His mamma was busy getting supper, and she did not see him, and as his sister, Baby Pinky, was practising her piano lesson on the tin dishpan, she made so much noise Mrs. Twistytail did not hear the piggie boy, so no one stopped Flop Ear.

Maybe if mamma had known that he had a bonfire she would not have liked it, and I want you children—­especially you little ones—­to promise Uncle Wiggily that you will never, never make a fire unless some older person is there to watch you.  Fires are very bad, you know—­and burns—­Bur-r-r-r!  How burns do hurt!