BUNNY TALE 9 THE CIRCUS

Goodness gracious me! That Billy Goat Stage Coach will be dreadfully crowded if Little Jack Rabbit invites many more friends to his circus party. Of course, when you come to think it over, the birds can perch on the roof and the little animals crawl under the seats; maybe one or two might sit with the stage coach driver, the nice Old Dog who smokes a big pipe while holding the reins in his left paw and the whip in his right. Oh, he’s a good driver, so kind and gentle that the billy goat team will do anything for him.

“Dear me, I mustn’t forget a single friend,” thought the little rabbit, as he hopped over the Bubbling Brook and across the Sunny Meadow to the Old Brush Heap.

Up the well-worn little path he hurried, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, to Cousin Cottontail’s little bungalow under the trailing green vines.

“Cousin Cottontail,” he shouted, “where are you?”

“We’re here,” came the answer, and out popped all the little cottontails, one after another—five in all, their pink noses twinkling like so many little stars.

“I’m giving a circus party to-morrow,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “Want to come?”

Gracious me! I don’t see why he thought it necessary to ask five little bunnies if they wanted to go to the circus!

“Of course we do,” they all shouted at once, which brought Mrs. Cottontail to the door to find out what all the noise was about.

“What time do you start?” she asked.

“At seven to-morrow morning. We all go in the Billy Goat Stage Coach,” explained Little Jack Rabbit. “Please be on time, for if we don’t get an early start we may not reach Turnip City in time to see the Grand Parade of all the Queer People.”

“We’ll be over bright and early,” promised Mrs. Cottontail. “Don’t you worry about us. Maybe some of your other friends will keep you waiting, but not your old auntie.”

Pretty soon she brought out an apronful of nice cookies, just hot out of the oven.

Oh, what a nice feast all the little rabbits had! Nor did they forget to save the crumbs for Bobbie Redvest, who happened to pass by later on.

“Well, I guess I must be going,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit, when the last cookie was gone. “Mother will worry if I’m late for supper.” And away he hopped, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, down the little path under the Big Brush Heap and across the Pleasant Meadow to the Bubbling Brook, over which he hopped to the Sunny Meadow. At last he was safe home in the dear Old Bramble Patch, eating a nice supper of stewed lollypops.

It seemed to him that he had hardly jumped into bed and fallen asleep when:

sang the cuckoo bird from her pretty clock house.

Out of bed hopped Lady Love and Mr. Rabbit; off came Grandma Bunny’s night cap, and in less time than I can take to tell it they were all dressed and in the kitchen, eating a breakfast of lollypop porridge, turnip tea and carrot cakes with maple syrup.

all of a sudden barked the Old Dog Driver atop the Billy Goat Stage Coach.

“Wait a minute,” begged Grandmother Magpie.

“I’m coming,” panted the Big Brown Bear.

“Here I am,” called out Granddaddy Bullfrog.

“I’m on time,” laughed Cousin Cottontail, with her five little bunnies hopping after her.

“Who said I was late?” cackled Henny Jenny.

“Good morning, I’m here,” said Turkey Tim.

“Is there room enough for me?” asked Timmie Meadowmouse.

“I’ll sit on top,” sang Bobbie Redvest.

“So will I,” said Squirrel Nutcracker.

“And that’s where I’ll sit,” said pretty Mrs. Oriole.

“I’m with you,” cawed Professor Jim Crow, seating himself with his family.

“Room for one more?” asked Ducky Waddles.

“I was nearly late,” cried Cocky Doodle.

“Let me squeeze in,” crowed the Old Red Rooster.

“Don’t step on us,” chirped the Three Little Grasshoppers.

“Nor on me,” squeaked little Miss Cricket.

“Hold on, I’m getting in,” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“I ran all the way,” panted Busy Beaver.

“So did I,” said Chippy Chipmunk.

“Any more?” asked the Old Dog Driver.

“Yes, yes!” shouted dear Uncle Lucky. “I’m going,” and the dear old gentleman rabbit hopped out of his Luckymobile and into the Stage Coach.

“I guess everybody’s here,” said Mr. Rabbit.

“Who’s that coming across the meadows?” asked the lady bunny, looking out of the stage coach window.

“Why, bless my pink tie and horseshoe pin,” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, “it’s Goosey Lucy.”

As soon as she was aboard, the Old Dog Driver cracked his whip and away they went to Turnip City to see Uncle Lucky’s wonderful circus.

“Whoa!” shouted the Old Dog Driver, pulling in his team of billy goats. “Whoa!” and this time he said it so loud that an old duck waddled out of a little house close to the bridge gate.

“My gracious!” she quacked, “you have a load, all right. I never saw so many animals and birds in a stage coach before, and I’m an old duck. Oh, yes, I’m as old as a good many great-great-grandmothers.”

“What is the toll?” asked the Old Dog Driver, lighting his pipe and puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“Five carrot cents for the stage coach, ten carrot cents for the Billy Goat Team, two carrot cents for yourself, and three carrot cents for each passenger,” answered the old lady duck.

“Dear me,” whined the Old Dog Driver, “it will take some time to count it all up. How will a lettuce leaf dollar bill suit you?”

“Won’t do,” answered the old lady duck. My, wasn’t she particular, though?

“Well then, let’s start counting,” sighed the Old Dog Driver. “You count those on top and I’ll count those inside, and who gets done first, wins.”

“Wins what?” asked the old Lady Duck.

“A Little Jack Rabbit Book,” laughed the Old Dog Driver. “I have one in my pocket for your little grand duckling. Hurry up and win.”

Then, goodness me! How that lady duck did count! In less than five hundred short seconds she had finished and the Old Dog Driver had only just begun.

Well, sir, when it came to pay, the toll was more than a lettuce leaf dollar bill. Dear me, yes. But what it was I won’t bother to tell you, for I haven’t had time to count the passengers. Have you?

As soon as the toll gate swung open, over the bridge, pranced the billy goats, rapperty rap, rapperty rap, and before very long they were galloping up a steep hill, for those billy goats didn’t mind that. No, siree! They were used to climbing mountains and, besides, everybody was singing:

My goodness! how that Billy Goat Coach rolled over the pebbles and over the stones. And how those billy goats pranced and threw out their heels, shook their heads and their long horns.

“Gid-ap!” barked the Old Dog Driver.

“Let ’er go!” shouted dear Uncle Lucky.

Away, faster than ever, and faster still, went the billy goats up the big steep hill, and down the other side to Rabbitville.

Along Lettuce Avenue they clattered, past the Three-in-One Cent Store, past the Welsh Rarebit Club and the Post Office, from the doorway of which the Old Maid Grasshopper waved a white pocket handkerchief; past the Old Mill where the Dusty Moth Miller ground the corn for the farmer bunnies; past the house of Dr. Quack, the famous duck doctor, and the little green house in which Mrs. Mouse lived.

Dear me! I could go on and on just like the old coach, and say so much that I’d have no room to put in what happened when it finally drew up in Turnip City.

“Whoa there, my good little billy goats!” shouted the Old Dog Driver, as the big Policeman Dog held up his paw to stop the taxis and wagons until everybody was safe on the sidewalk. Then the Old Dog Driver gave the billy goats a nice drink of water at the fountain and drove around to the wagon entrance on Cabbage Street.

Well, it didn’t take the Shady Forest and Sunny Meadow people long to walk into the tent. Uncle Lucky headed the procession, Little Jack Rabbit next, then Grandma Bunny and Lady Love, Mr. Rabbit and the Big Brown Bear, until, way down at the end, waddled Ducky Waddles.

“Quack, quack! Please hurry!” he begged, beginning to fear the circus would be over by the time he entered the tent.

But he needn’t have worried, for the Old Dog Driver had arrived early.

“Come on, Timmie Meadowmouse,” cried the little bunny, “I must see the animals.”

Pretty soon they came to a little tent. They didn’t know it belonged to the Circus Queen, the lovely lady dressed in gauze and gold spangles, who rode on the big white horse.

There she sat on a circus trunk, holding in her arms a little baby.

“Gracious me!” she exclaimed in a whisper on seeing Little Jack Rabbit and Timmie Meadowmouse, “am I dreaming? Maybe I’m in By-low Land!”

“No, m’am,” answered the little bunny, taking off his khaki cap, “I hear them calling you!”

“Some day you’ll grow to be a big clown.”

Sure enough, a man’s voice was shouting, “Liz, oh, Liz! Liz, Liz!”

“I’m coming,” answered the Circus Queen, tenderly placing the sleeping baby in its cradle.

Just outside stood a big white horse, and before the little bunny could say “Oh! Ah!” she was riding into the big tent. “Hurrah! Hurray! Here’s Lizzie Gray, she’s riding better every day!” clapped and shouted all the people.

But nobody knew she was a loving mother nor that just outside in the little tent slept Boy Blue.

All of a sudden the band struck up and a funny clown began to sing:

After that the big parade went around the ring, pretty girls dressed up as butterflies, elephants gayly decorated with diamond chains, camels carrying gorgeously gowned ladies, big floats with funny little dwarfs. Everything you can think of, and lots of things you’d never dream of.

My, wasn’t it fun. Well, I guess yes three times, and maybe four. I’m sure I can’t count, I’m so excited just writing about the circus.

“Hurrah!” shouted Little Jack Rabbit. “There’s the circus Queen!”

“Hurray!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, and the next minute he shouted it three times for the trained bear had begun to roller skate.

“The trained bear had begun to roller skate.”

Goodness me! How the Shady Forest Folk and the Sunny Meadow People enjoyed it all. Even Grandmother Magpie smiled and clapped her wings. As for Granddaddy Bullfrog, he hip-hurrayed until he grew so husky that he didn’t make a sound when he opened his mouth.

By and by, after a while, the show ended and Little Jack Rabbit’s Circus Party marched out and into the Billy Goat Stage Coach.

“Good-by, come again next year!” cried the big Policeman Dog on the street corner.

“Much obliged,” answered Uncle Lucky, waving his old wedding stovepipe hat. “We’ll be back inside a year, see you keep the crossing clear; let no taxi run us down when we come to Turnip Town.”

Then away rattled the stage coach, the two little billy goats prancing up Lettuce Avenue as gayly as you please.

“Toot, toot!” went the ferryboat whistle, as it neared the river. “Hurry up!” it seemed to say. So the Old Dog Driver cracked his whip over the heads of the billy goats and in a few minutes all were on board.

“Tinkle, tinkle!” sounded the bell, the big paddle wheels commenced to turn, and in less time than I can take to tell it the ferryboat was half across the River Sippi, and almost before dear Uncle Lucky could get his shoes shined it bumped into the ferry slip.

“Well, well, well! Here we are!” exclaimed the dear old gentleman rabbit, when the Billy Goat Stage Coach at last drew up before the Old Bramble Patch;

In a few minutes the coach was empty and as soon as the little people of the forest and meadow had thanked Little Jack Rabbit for a good time, they either hopped or ran or flew to their homes. Pretty soon there was nobody left, so the happy rabbit family hopped into the little white house in the Old Bramble Patch. In a few minutes the nice old lady bunny and Lady Love had prepared a nice hot supper.

“I declare,” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, setting down his cup of hot turnip tea, “that certainly was the best circus I’ve been to in many a year.”

“I’ll tell the world,” agreed Little Jack Rabbit.

“What do you know about circuses, you little bunny?” laughed the funny old gentleman rabbit. “This is the first time you’ve ever been to one.”

“That doesn’t matter,” answered the little bunny. “I’ve dreamed about them many a time, and some dreams are very real.”

softly twittered the little canary.

“That reminds me of a story,” mused dear Uncle Lucky, pushing up his spectacles and settling himself comfortably in the old arm chair:

“Once upon a time a little bird in a blue coat sat on an Old Snake Fence. All around him the earth was dingy, the trees bare and leafless. The chilly wind kept little patches of snow still lingering in the shady hollow places. But all this didn’t keep the brave little bird from whistling merrily, for in his heart he held a dream of summer, red roses and green woods, grassy meadows and little hills covered with wild strawberries.

“So he sang his song of promise to his mate while she made a comfortable nest in a dry hole in a fence post. By and by, when it was finished, she filled it with pretty eggs, on which she sat to warm them with her feathers. And while she sat there she, too, dreamed—dreamed of four little bluebirds.

“As the sun grew warmer and the meadow greener and the forest more leafy, one by one the little bluebirds broke open the shells.

sang the Bluebird from the top rail of the Old Snake Fence. There,” said dear Uncle Lucky, “that’s all!”