to be frightened, "or would rather have a dishpan?"

"Don't want either," said the bear with a terrible growl.

"Perhaps you'd like a nutmeg grater," said the poor old peddler, and
he was so frightened by this time that his knees knocked into the tin
pans and made a dreadful noise.

"I've a dandy egg beater," went on the peddler, in a trembling voice,
but after that he never said another word, for that great big bear
jumped right at him and took the egg beater out of his hands and
growled so terribly that the tin peddler turned away and ran down the
forest path as fast as he could go.

And then all the little and big forest folk began to sing:

"Hip, hip hurray, the peddler's gone away.
No more he'll make his tin pans shake
And spoil our singing school beside the Forest Pool."

And in the next story, if the baby who lives in the house opposite
doesn't shake his rattle at me all night so that I can't get to sleep
and dream about the next story in time to write it for to-morrow
night, I'll tell you more about the little rabbit's adventures.




STORY XII.