instead of the
cherries," said the rabbit. "That's no way to do. You must take out the
stones from inside the cherries and put the outside part of them inside
the pie, and throw the inside or stony part of the cherries away."

"Oh, good land!" cried the hedgehog, "no wonder I couldn't eat the pie.
You see, I thought cherries were like peanuts. For you know you throw away
the outside part of the peanut, and eat the inside."

"Yes, and cherries are just the opposite," said the rabbit, laughing
again. "For you eat the outside of a cherry and throw away the pit or
stone that is inside. Now, I'll make you a cherry pie."

"I wish you would," said the porcupine. "I'll go get the cherries."

So he went out in the orchard, and he shot his sharp stickery quills, like
little arrows at the cherries on the tree, and they fell down, so he
could pick them up in a basket. I mean the cherries fell down, though of
course the quills did also though the hedgehog didn't pick them up.

And while he was doing that Uncle Wiggily was making the pie crust. He
took flour and lard and water, and mixed them together, and then he put in
other things--Oh, well, you just ask your mamma or the cook what they
were, for I might get it wrong--and soon the pie crust was ready. Then
Uncle Wiggily built a hot fire in the stove, and he waited for Mr.
Hedgehog to come in with the cherries.

And pretty soon the porcupine came back with his basket full, and he and
Uncle Wiggily shelled the peanuts--I mean the cherries--taking out the
pits.

"Now I'll put them in the pie, and put sugar on them, bake it in the oven,
and soon it will be done, and we can eat it," said the rabbit.

"Oh, joy!" cried the hedgehog. "That will be fine!"

So Uncle Wiggily put the cherries in the pie, and threw the pits away, and
he put the pie in the oven, and then he and Mr. Hedgehog sat down to wait
for it to bake. And oh, how delicious and scrumptious it did smell! if you
will excuse me for saying so.

Well, in a little while, the pie was baked, and Uncle Wiggily took it from
the oven.

"I can hardly wait to eat it!" cried the hedgehog, and just then there
came a terribly loud knock on the door.

"Oh, maybe it's that bad fox come for some of my pie!" exclaimed the
hedgehog. "If it is, I'll stick him full of stickery-stickers." But when
he went to the door there stood old Percival, the circus dog, and he was
crying as hard as he could cry.

"Come in," invited Uncle Wiggil