some fun, too. So off he went to get some
bittersweet berries, for he likes them much better than sweet potatoes.

After a while Mrs. Rabbit came out to see whether they were up to any
mischief. She was worried for fear they might burn up the Old Rail Fence
or set fire to the Old Bramble Patch. But no, nothing was wrong. All
three were quietly sitting around a small fire, the little rabbit
peeling a hot sweet potato, the little chipmunk shelling a smoking hot
chestnut and the little crow picking out the nice browned bittersweet
berries.

"Well, well!" exclaimed the lady rabbit with a sigh of relief, "I
expected to see the Old Rail Fence in ashes and the dear Old Bramble
Patch in flames."

MRS. COW

"TING-A-LING! ting-a-ling!" went Mrs. Cow's bell. Mrs. Cow seemed mighty
anxious to get away from somebody. Yes, sir! she kept right on running,
although every now and then she'd turn her head to look behind her.

By and by Little Jack Rabbit came hopping over the top of the hill with
a tin pail in his paw. But, goodness me! Mrs. Cow didn't have to run
away from him. No indeed. He wasn't going to milk her. He didn't have a
milk pail at all, but a little dinner pail, and Mrs. Cow was mistaken
and had run away for nothing.

The truth of the matter was that the little rabbit was going berrying
down in the Cranberry Marsh on the other side of the Old Duck Pond, but
of course Mrs. Cow didn't know that.

But she did know it wasn't time to be milked, and, anyway, she wasn't
going to have anybody milk her but the Kind Farmer.

"Mrs. Cow! Mrs. Cow!" cried the little rabbit, "I'm going cranberrying,
not milking. Don't run away!"

"Honest Injun?" said Mrs. Cow, halting at the Bubbling Brook. "Cross
your heart?"

"Yes, cross my heart," answered the little rabbit.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so," replied Mrs. Cow. "I might have
sprained my ankle jumping over the Bubbling Brook." Then she trotted
along by the little rabbit's side.

"How's your Ma these days?" she asked in a little while.

"She's going to make cranberry jelly when I get back," replied the
little rabbit. "Father's very fond of it. How's Mr. Bull?"

"He's very well," answered Mrs. Cow. "He was up when Cocky Doodle sang
his Sun Song this morning."

"So was I," laughed the little rabbit. "Mother says Cocky Doodle is
better than an alarm clock, for you don't have to wind him."

Just then they came to the end of the meadow, so the little rabbit
h