my part I want
something smaller and daintier, young grasshoppers, tender young
beetles, small caterpillars, bugs and spiders."

Peter had to turn his head aside to hide the wry face he just had to
make at the mention of such things as food. "Is that all Welcome Robin
eats?" he asked innocently.

"I should say not," laughed Jenny. "He eats a lot of other kinds of
worms, and he just dearly loves fruit like strawberries and cherries and
all sorts of small berries. Well, I can't stop here talking any longer.
I'm going to tell you a secret, Peter, if you'll promise not to tell."

Of course Peter promised, and Jenny leaned so far down that Peter
wondered how she could keep from falling as she whispered, "I've got
seven eggs in my nest, so if you don't see much of me for the next week
or more, you'll know why. I've just got to sit on those eggs and keep
them warm."

CHAPTER VI. An Old Friend In a New Home.

Every day brought newcomers to the Old Orchard, and early in the morning
there were so many voices to be heard that perhaps it is no wonder if
for some time Peter Rabbit failed to miss that of one of his very good
friends. Most unexpectedly he was reminded of this as very early one
morning he scampered, lipperty-lipperty-lip, across a little bridge over
the Laughing Brook.

"Dear me! Dear me! Dear me!" cried rather a plaintive voice. Peter
stopped so suddenly that he all but fell heels over head. Sitting on the
top of a tall, dead, mullein stalk was a very soberly dressed but rather
trim little fellow, a very little larger than Bully the English Sparrow.
Above, his coat was of a dull olive-brown, while underneath he was of a
grayish-white, with faint tinges of yellow in places. His head was dark,
and his bill black. The feathers on his head were lifted just enough to
make the tiniest kind of crest. His wings and tail were dusky, little
bars of white showing very faintly on his wings, while the outer edges
of his tail were distinctly white. He sat with his tail hanging straight
down, as if he hadn't strength enough to hold it up.

"Hello, Dear Me!" cried Peter joyously. "What are you doing way down
here? I haven't seen you since you first arrived, just after Winsome
Bluebird got here." Peter started to say that he had wondered what had
become of Dear Me, but checked himself, for Peter is very honest and
he realized now that in the excitement of greeting so many friends he
hadn't missed Dear Me at all.

Dear Me