Finally Dorothy ventured to speak, so she asked, very softly and slowly,

“Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy, Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?”

“Many things,” answered the rabbit, who was pleased to hear the girl speak in his own language; “in summer-time I see the clover-leaves that I love to feed upon and the cabbages at the end of the farmer’s garden.  I see the cool bushes where I can hide from my enemies, and I see the dogs and the men long before they can see me, or know that I am near, and therefore I am able to keep out of their way.”

“Is that the reason your eyes are so big?” asked Dorothy.

“I suppose so,” returned the rabbit; “you see we have only our eyes and our ears and our legs to defend ourselves with.  We cannot fight, but we can always run away, and that is a much better way to save our lives than by fighting.”

“Where is your home, bunny?” enquired the girl.

“I live in the ground, far down in a cool, pleasant hole I have dug in the midst of the forest.  At the bottom of the hole is the nicest little room you can imagine, and there I have made a soft bed to rest in at night.  When I meet an enemy I run to my hole and jump in, and there I stay until all danger is over.”

“You have told me what you see in summer,” continued Dorothy, who was greatly interested in the rabbit’s account of himself, “but what do you see in the winter?”

“In winter we rabbits,” said Bunny so shy, “Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by.”

“And do you ever see him?” asked the girl, eagerly.

“Oh, yes; every winter.  I am not afraid of him, nor of his reindeer.  And it is such fun to see him come dashing along, cracking his whip and calling out cheerily to his reindeer, who are able to run even swifter than we rabbits.  And Santa Claus, when he sees me, always gives me a nod and a smile, and then I look after him and his big load of toys which he is carrying to the children, until he has galloped away out of sight.  I like to see the toys, for they are so bright and pretty, and every year there is something new amongst them.  Once I visited Santa, and saw him make the toys.”

“Oh, tell me about it!” pleaded Dorothy.

“It was one morning after Christmas,” said the rabbit, who seemed to enjoy talking, now that he had overcome his fear of Dorothy, “and I was sitting by the road-side when Santa Claus came riding back in his empty sleigh.  He does not come home quite so fast as he goes, and when he saw me he stopped for a word.

“‘You look very pretty this morning, Bun Rabbit,’ he said, in his jolly way; ‘I think the babies would love to have you to play with.’

“‘I do n’t doubt it, your honor,’ I answered; ’but they ’d soon kill me with handling, even if they did not scare me to death; for babies are very rough with their playthings.’

“‘That is true,’ replied Santa Claus; ’and yet you are so soft and pretty it is a pity the babies can’t have you.  Still, as they would abuse a live rabbit I think I shall make them some toy rabbits, which they cannot hurt; so if you will jump into my sleigh with me and ride home to my castle for a few days, I ’ll see if I can’t make some toy rabbits just like you.”