"well, i guess granddaddy bullfrog is right," thought little jack rabbit, as he hopped back home to the old bramble patch. "what's the use of worrying about winter? i'll take granddaddy bullfrog's advice and leave it all to mother."
after that he felt much better. pretty soon he saw timmy meadowmouse looking out of his little round house of grass, no larger than a cricket ball, which was fastened to three or four stiff stalks of grass about a foot above the ground.
"good morning. do you know, i've been dreadfully worried about winter; but now i'm going to take granddaddy bullfrog's advice and leave it all to mother."
you see, this little rabbit just couldn't stop talking about his troubles, although he was going to leave them all to mother!
"there! she's waving to you from the old bramble patch," cried timmy meadowmouse. away went the little bunny without another word and in less than five hundred hops he was home.
"hop over to the field and bring me a turnip. your father will be home for lunch in a few minutes," said mrs. rabbit.
little jack rabbit hopped through the old rail fence, across the road and into the field where the old scarecrow flapped his arms every time billy breeze whistled through the cornstalks. but the old clothes man couldn't frighten the little bunny. oh, my no! it took more than that, although he was a scary little chap. you see, he knew all about the old scarecrow, for he had watched the kind farmer put him up in the early spring.
picking up a nice looking turnip, he turned about and started back again. but, oh dear me! all of a sudden out from behind a cornstack jumped the farmer's boy.
the little rabbit didn't stop to say sorry to have met you. no siree. he hopped away as fast as he could, but not fast enough. before he had gone maybe thirteen hops a stone hit his left hind leg.
"ha, ha!" yelled the farmer's boy. "wait till i hit you again, mr. cottontail." but he didn't, for the little rabbit went faster on three legs than he had on four, and the next minute popped safely into the dear old bramble patch.
"where's the turnip?" asked mrs. rabbit.
"goodness me! i guess that's what the farmer's boy hit me with," answered the little bunny.
