d
never know afterward whether his head was on right or not.

Then Mr. 'Coon rose to remark that Mr. Fox was next on the program and
would give a little exhibition in light and fancy running.

Mr. Fox, who hadn't eaten as much dinner as he might, because he wanted
to be in good trim for his performance, got right up and with a leap
landed out on the Race Track, and then for the next five minutes they
could hardly tell whether he was running or flying, he leaped so lightly
and skipped so swiftly, his fine, bushy tail waving like a beautiful,
graceful plume that seemed to guide him this way and that and to be just
the thing for Mr. Fox's purpose.

Mr. Fox was applauded, too, when he sat down, and so was Mr. Squirrel,
who came next, and showed that _his_ bushy tail was also useful, for he
gave a leaping exhibition from one limb to another, and leaped farther
and farther each time, until they thought he would surely injure
himself; but he never did and he got as much applause as Mr. Fox when he
finally landed right in front of the bride and groom and made a neat
bow.

Then Mr. Turtle gave a heavy-weight carrying exhibition, and let all get
on his back that could stick on, and walked right down the same Race
Track where so long before he had run the celebrated race with Mr. Hare,
and said when he came back he felt just as young and able to-day as he
had then, and was much stronger in the shell.

[Illustration: IF YOU COULD HAVE SEEN COUSIN REDFIELD DANCE]

Cousin Redfield Bear danced. Nobody thought he was going to do that.
They thought he would likely give a climbing exhibition, or something of
the kind. But he didn't--he danced. And if you could have seen Cousin
Redfield dance, with his arms akimbo, and his head thrown back, and
watch him cut the pigeon-wing, you would have understood why he wanted
to do it. He knew it would amuse them and make them want to dance, too;
which it did, and pretty soon they were in a circle around him, bride
and groom and all, dancing around and around and singing the Hollow Tree
song, which all the Deep Woods people know.

They danced until they were tired, and then it was Mr. Dog's turn to do
something. Mr. Dog said he couldn't fly, though certainly he would like
to; and he couldn't run like Mr. Fox, or jump like Mr. Squirrel, or make
poetry like Mr. Rabbit, or dance like Mr. Bear--though once, a long time
ago, as some of them might remember, he had taken a dancing-lesson from
Jack R