ecause it was all bulgy and full, only, of
course, hers had little birds inside and a Christmas stocking has all
sorts of toys, with an orange in the toe and a Jack-in-the-Box
sticking out of the top.

So off hopped the little rabbit, and pretty soon he saw the old
gentleman bullfrog catching flies, and undoing his waistcoat one
button every time a fly disappeared down his throat.

"I thought at first that dreadful Miller's Boy had taken you away,"
said Billy Bunny, "and I was very sad, for I like you, Uncle Bullfrog,
and I've never forgotten how you found the letter I lost a long time
ago."

"Tut, tut," said the old gentleman frog. "How's your mother?" and then
he swallowed another fly and unbuttoned the last button, and if he
takes off his waistcoat I'll tell you so in the next story.

STORY III.

BILLY BUNNY AND THE SORROWFUL JAY BIRD.

Well, Uncle Bullfrog didn't take off his waistcoat, as I thought he
might in the last story, so I'm not going to tell you anything more
about him.

We'll just leave him in the old Mill Pond and go along with Billy
Bunny, who is hopping away toward the Friendly Forest.

By and by, after he had gone into the shady depths for maybe a million
and two or three hops, he came across his old friend the jay bird, who
had sold him the airship, you remember, and then bought it back again.

"I wish you'd kept your old flying machine," said the jay bird
sorrowfully.
"But you wanted to buy it back," said the little rabbit, "so it's not
my fault."

"Perhaps not," replied the sorrowful jay bird, "but that doesn't make
matters any better."

"Why, what's the trouble?" asked the little rabbit, sitting down and
taking a lollypop out of his knapsack.

"I had an accident," answered the jay bird.

"I ran into a thunder cloud and spilled out all the lightning, and, oh
dear, oh dear. I just hate to talk about it, but I will. The lightning
jumped all around and then struck the old tower clock and broke the
main spring, so that it wouldn't go any more, and now nobody in
Rabbitville can tell the day of the month, or when it will be
Thanksgiving or Fourth of July."

"Let's go to the clock maker and ask him to fix it," suggested the
little rabbit, and this so delighted the sorrowful jay bird that he
smiled and flew after Billy Bunny, and pretty soon they came to the
old clock maker, who was an old black spider.

"Certainly I'll fix it," he said, "but it will cost you nine million
and