"Apples, eh?" asked the voice again, and then Alice knew right away who it
was. Can you guess? No? Well, I'll tell you. It was Nurse Jane
Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the kind old muskrat lady. It was she who had asked the
question.

"Oh, so you have apples in there?" Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy repeated to the fox.
"Well, now, do you know," she went on, "I am very fond of apples. I wish
you would give me one."

"No," answered the bad fox, "I can't. These are very special apples, very
sour, in fact, and I'm sure you wouldn't like them."

"Oh, I just love sour apples," said the muskrat, moving nearer to the fox,
and showing her sharp teeth, like the carpenter's chisel when he shaves
the door down to make it smaller. "I just love sour apples," said the
nurse.

"Oh, I made a mistake, these are sweet apples," said the fox, quickly,
waggling his big tail like a dusting brush.

"I made a mistake, too," went on Miss Fuzzy-Wuzzy. "I guess I love sweet
apples instead of sour ones."

"You will have to excuse me," again spoke the fox quickly. "I made two
mistakes. These apples are half sweet and half sour, and not good at all."

"If there is anything I am fonder of than anything else it's a half sweet
and a half sour apple," declared the muskrat, and she showed her teeth
some more, as if she were smiling, only she wasn't. She was getting ready
to bite the bad fox, I guess.

Just then Alice moved around in the bag, hoping Miss Fuzzy-Wuzzy would see
her, and what's more, the kind muskrat nurse did. "Ah!" she exclaimed,
"you have moving apples, I see. I just love moving apples."

Then the fox knew it was of no use to tell any more stories, so he started
to hurry off with Alice in the bag. But Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy jumped right at
him, and she bit him on the nose, and on his front legs and on his hind
legs, until he was glad enough to drop the bag containing poor Alice, and
run away, over the hills, as fast as he could go.

Then the muskrat gnawed open the bag, and Alice came out, her feathers all
ruffled up, but she was not much hurt; only the yeast cake was all
squashed out of shape, like a piece of putty. Then Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy took
Alice home safely, and nothing more happened right away.

Well, now, to-morrow night, let's see. Ha! Hum! Oh, how careless of me! Of
course there isn't going to be any story to-morrow night, because we're at
the end of this book. You can see for yourself, if you look carefully,
that there are no more stories in it; not a s