"Why, you must be very happy this morning, Mrs. Wren!" called Uncle
Wiggily to her as she sat in her new nest which the rabbit had made for
her on the mossy stump.

"I am," she answered, "very happy. What do you think happened in the
night?"

"I can't guess," he answered. "A burglar crow didn't come and steal your
eggs, I hope!"

"Oh, nothing sad or bad like that," she answered. "But something very
nice. Just hop up here and look."

So Uncle Wiggily hopped up on the stump, and Mrs. Wren got off her nest,
and there, on the bottom, in among some egg-shells, were a lot of tiny,
weeny little birdies, about as big as a spool of silk thread or even
smaller.

"Why, where in the world did they come from?" asked the old gentleman
rabbit, rubbing his eyes.

"Out of the eggs to be sure," answered Mrs. Wren. "And I do declare, the
last of my family is hatched now. There is little Wiggily out of the shell
at last. I think I'll name him after you, as he never could keep still
when he was being hatched. Now I must take out all the broken shells so
the birdies won't cut themselves on them." And she began to throw them out
with her bill, just as the mother hen does, and then one of the new little
birdies called out:

"Cheep-cheep-chip-chip!"