t,
Peter. The rest of them get their living from the leaves and twigs and
in the air, but I've discovered an easier way. I've found out that there
are lots of little worms and insects and eggs on the trunks and big
limbs of the trees and that I can get the best kind of a living there
without flitting about everlastingly. I don't have to share them with
anybody but the Woodpeckers, Nuthatches, and Tommy Tit the Chickadee."

"That reminds me," said Peter. "Those folks you have mentioned nest in
holes in trees; do you?"

"I should say not," retorted Creeper. "I don't know of any Warbler who
does. I build on the ground, if you want to know. I nest in the Green
Forest. Sometimes I make my nest in a little hollow at the base of a
tree; sometimes I put it under a stump or rock or tuck it in under the
roots of a tree that has been blown over. But there, Peter Rabbit, I've
talked enough. I'm glad you're glad that I'm back, and I'm glad I'm back
too."

Creeper continued on up the trunk of the tree, picking here and picking
there. Just then Peter caught sight of another friend whom he could
always tell by the black mask he wore. It was Mummer the Yellow-throat.
He had just darted into the thicket of bushes along the old stone wall.
Peter promptly hurried over there to look for him.

When Peter reached the place where he had caught a glimpse of Mummer, no
one was to be seen. Peter sat down, uncertain which way to go. Suddenly
Mummer popped out right in front of Peter, seemingly from nowhere at
all. His throat and breast were bright yellow and his back wings and
tail a soft olive-green. But the most remarkable thing about him was the
mask of black right across his cheeks, eyes and forehead. At least it
looked like a mask, although it really wasn't one.

"Hello, Mummer!" cried Peter.

"Hello yourself, Peter Rabbit!" retorted Mummer and then disappeared as
suddenly as he had appeared.

Peter blinked and looked in vain all about.

"Looking for some one?" asked Mummer, suddenly popping into view where
Peter least expected him.

"For goodness' sake, can't you sit still a minute?" cried Peter. "How do
you expect a fellow can talk to you when he can't keep his eyes on you
more than two seconds at a time."

"Who asked you to talk to me?" responded Mummer, and popped out of
sight. Two seconds later he was back again and his bright little eyes
fairly shone with mischief. Then before Peter could say a word Mummer
burst into a plea