good times together in the parlor down stairs, they had Jack Rabbit and
Mr. Turtle in for supper. It was a nice supper, too, for it was just
about strawberry time, and strawberries grow thicker in the Big Deep
Woods than fur on a kitten's back. Mr. Crow, who is a great cook, had
made a nice shortcake, and been over to Mr. Man's pantry, where he gets
some of his best things, and borrowed a pail of sweet cream when Mr. Man
wasn't at home.

"Of course they had fried chicken, too, first, and by the time they were
through their shortcake and had lit their pipes Mr. 'Possum, who likes
good things better than anybody, almost, could hardly open his eyes. He
said he wished he was a poet, like Mr. Jack Rabbit, for he had never
been so full of summer happiness since he was born, and if he could
only make rhymes, he knew that poetry would slip right off his tongue.
Then, of course, Mr. Rabbit wanted to show off, and without stopping a
second he commenced to talk poetry--this way:--

"In the summer time I make a rhyme
For every breeze that passes,
For I can always make it chime
With lassies, grasses, sasses."

"Mr. 'Possum said he couldn't do that if it was to save him from being
hung the next minute, and Mr. Rabbit went right on without catching his
breath:--

"Where e'er I go my verses flow--
I keep it up for hours.
I'm never short of rhymes, you know,
With bowers, flowers, showers."

"Well, that set them all to wondering how Jack Rabbit could do it so
easily, and Mr. Rabbit didn't think to tell them how he'd sat up all the
night before to compose this poetry, so's to have it on hand and ready
for a chance to use it. He said that it was somebody else's turn now,
and that maybe Mr. Turtle would give them a performance of some kind.
Mr. Turtle wanted to change the subject, and got up and walked over to
the window. He said that, speaking of showers, it was so warm and close,
he shouldn't wonder if they had one before morning. He said he believed
there was lightning now, off in the west, and seemed like he could hear
it thunder, too. Then they all talked about thunder and lightning and
what they were. But nobody seemed to know except Mr. Turtle himself.

"'Why,' he said, 'I thought everybody knew that!' Then he went on to say
that he'd known the story ever since he wasn't 'any bigger than a pants
button,' and all the others said he must tell it to them, because it was
his turn, anyway. And Mr. Turtle w