"Oh, dear, I've got a sliver in my foot!" blubbered one voice.
"And I've stepped on a stone and there's a big bruise on my foot!"
sniffled another voice.
"Oh! none of you is as badly off as I am," quivered a third voice, "for
I've cut my two feet on a piece of glass! Oh, whatever shall we do?"
"My, I wonder who they can be?" thought the rabbit, for he could see no
one as yet. "Maybe those are the little children of the burglar fox, and
if they are, then the burglar fox must be somewhere around here, and I had
better be careful of myself."
Well, the rabbit was about to turn, and run back down the hill, up which
he had just come, when he saw something white fluttering like a piece of
paper.
"A fox isn't white," Uncle Wiggily said to himself, "at least not the
foxes around here. That must be something else." So he took another
careful look, and he saw three nice little duck children--I guess you
remember their names--Lulu and Alice and Jimmie Wibblewobble. And as soon
as they saw the old gentleman rabbit, those three duck children exclaimed:
"Oh, joy! Oh, happiness!" and they didn't think about the slivers and the
bruises and the cuts in their feet any more.
"My goodness me sakes alive and a potato pancake!" cried Uncle Wiggily.
"What are you children doing so far away from home? You must be lost.
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