ee where all kinds of nuts grew side by side on the same
branch that he did not answer. Only his eyelids quivered ever so little,
so his mother knew he was pretending.

"Come, come!" she repeated. "Little Hazel Squirrel is up and playing
outside."

In a twinkling he had jumped out of bed and pressed his furry little
nose against the window pane. Little Hazel was playing far out on a
leafy branch with one eye on Bushy-Tail's house, nestled in a forked
limb close to the trunk. She waved her lovely gray tail when she saw him
and began chattering very fast.

"Wait a minute," Bushy-Tail called back, "I'll be down in a jiffy."

And he was in such a hurry that he tied his tie on sideways and brushed
his furry tail the wrong way, which made him look very funny. He even
forgot to take a bite of the nice breakfast his mother had left on the
table for him. Right through the window he bounded, instead of walking
through the door as he had been taught to do, and landed close beside
Hazel, far out on the leafy bough.

"Oh, Hazel," he cried, "I've had the loveliest dream!"

"You old sleepy-head," she answered, "you lay abed dreaming when you
might be out playing in the fresh air."

[Illustration: "I'LL BE DOWN IN A JIFFY"]

"Hazel," Bushy-Tail began, teetering up and down on the branch in his
excitement, "I'm sick of peanuts, aren't you?"

"No," she answered, "I love them. Mother says they make my coat thick
and sleek."

They were city squirrels, you know, who lived in a park and had their
daily supply of peanuts left at their door by the park-keeper.

"No, I am not sick of peanuts," she continued. "But what has that to do
with your dream?"

"Everything," he went on. "Oh, Hazel, I dreamed of a most wonderful tree
where all kinds of nuts--hickory, walnuts, chestnuts and
hazel-nuts--grew side by side on the same branch. We must hurry and get
there before they are all gone," and he jumped up so quickly that Hazel
went spinning round and round the branch she was holding on to with her
sharp little claws.

Now, Hazel was a good little squirrel who always talked things over
with her mother, so as they were hurrying away across the park she
suddenly stopped. "I forgot to tell mother where I was going," she said.

Her play-fellow grabbed her by the tail. "It's to be a surprise," he
whispered. "We will make little baskets of dry twigs and carry home
enough for everybody." This sounded fine.

The pink in the sky was by now be