ted to a hole in a hollow stump, and into it she and Bully went,
basket of chips and all, just in time to escape the bad heron bird.

"Oh, I'll get you yet! I'll get you yet!" screeched the bird, hopping
along, first on one leg and then on the other, and dancing about in
front of the stump. "I'll eat you both, that's what I will!" Then he
tried to reach in with his bill and pull the frog boy and the mouse lady
out of the hollow stump, but he couldn't, and then he stood on one leg
and hid the other one up under his feathers to keep it warm.

"I'll wait here until you come out, if I have to wait all night," said
the bird. "Then I'll get you."

"I guess he will, too," said Bully, peeping out of a crack. "We are safe
here, but how am I going to get home, and how are you going to get home,
Mrs. Mouse?"

"I will show you," she answered. "We'll play a trick on that heron. See,
I have some green paint, that I was going to put on my kitchen cupboard.
Now we'll take some of it, and we'll paint a few of the chips green, and
they'll look something like a frog. Then we'll throw them out to the
heron, one at a time, and he'll be so hungry that he'll grab them
without looking at them. When he eats enough green chips he'll have
indigestion, and be so heavy, like a stone, that he can't chase after us
when we go out."

"Good!" cried Bully. So they painted some chips green, just the color of
Bully, and they tossed one out of the stump toward the bird.

"Now I have you!" cried the heron, and, thinking it was the frog boy, he
grabbed up that green chip as quick as anything. And, before he knew
what it was, he had swallowed it, and then Mrs. Mouse and Bully threw
out more green chips, and the bad bird didn't know they were only wood,
but he thought they were a whole lot of green frogs hopping out, and he
gobbled them up, one after another, as fast as he could.

And, in a little while, the sharp chips stuck out all over inside of
him, like potatoes in a sack, and the heron had indigestion, and was so
heavy that he couldn't run. Then Bully and Mrs. Mouse came out of the
stump, and went away, leaving the bad bird there, unable to move, and as
angry as a fox without a tail. Bully helped Mrs. Mouse carry the rest of
the chips home, and then he hopped home himself.

Now that's the end of this story, but I know another, and if the little
boy across the street doesn't throw his baseball at my pussy cat and
make her tail so big I can't get he