was all done, and the firemen gave each of the pig children a penny.

So that's all now, but in the next story, in case the oil can
doesn't slide down the clothes pole and break the handle off the
pump, so the angle worm can't get his ice cream cone, I'll tell you
about Curly and the elephant.




STORY V

CURLY AND THE ELEPHANT


When Curly Twistytail, the little pig boy, was digging away with his
nose in the front yard, one day, hunting for lollypops, or maybe ice
cream cones, under the grass, for all that I know; one day, I say,
as he was rooting away, he heard his mamma calling:

"Oh, Curly; Oh, Flop Ear! I want some one to go to the store for
me."

"That means I've got to go," thought Curly, as he looked around to
see if his tail was still kinked into a little twist.

"I'll have to go because Flop is off playing ball with Bully the
frog. Well, there's no use getting cross about it," so, giving a
cheerful grunt or two, just to show that he didn't at all mind,
Curly ran around to the back door and said: