"What d'you want?" the Man asked sharply.

The rabbit flicked his white scut and sat up on his hind-legs, his
whiskers quivering with excitement.

"I want to see it," he panted. "The dog's been boasting. I hurried
because I wanted to be the first to see it. I'm so little; I couldn't do
it any harm."

"Let him see it," said the Woman. "He's gentle. He might be able to tell
us what to call it."

So the Man told the rabbit that he could have just one peep. But when
the rabbit tried to get his peep by standing against the Woman's knees,
he wasn't tall enough, so the Man had to lift him till he lay all furry
against the little creature that was in the Woman's arms.

"I can't suggest anything," said the rabbit. "We ought to consult the
other animals. They all want to be friends; they're so curious. But
there's one thing I do know: we're both small and my coat would just fit
it."

Before they could stop him, he had pulled off his coat and was tucking
it snugly about the little stranger. He was right; it did fit exactly.
So the first garment of the earth's first baby was a rabbitskin, which
accounts for the rhyme which mothers sing about "Gone to fetch a
rabbitskin, to wrap the baby bunting in."

When the rabbit had presented his gift, he hopped down from the Woman's