"It is something the cook forgot to put away!"
remarked Father Bear in pompous tones.

"You may taste of it if you wish, Son Bear," said his
mother.

Into the kettle went Little Bear's paw, and out it
came filled with soft, brown, juicy fruit. He ate it, and
it was good-so good he ate more and more. Father
Bear ate the fruit, Mother Bear ate the fruit.

"What is it?" they said one to another. But although
they could not answer the question, they liked that fruit
so well they ate and ate until they ate it all up. They
even forgot their manners and smacked their lips.

Suddenly there was a noise in one of the tents, and out
popped the cook's wife, calling, "Oh, the bears are eating
our prunes! Oh, the bears are eating our prunes! Shoo!
Shoo! Shoo! They were eating our prunes!"

"So we were eating prunes!" exclaimed Mother Bear,
as away went the Three Bears, laughing.

"And prunes are good!" piped up Little Bear, in his
shrill, shrill voice.

But Daddy Bear pranced through the forest singing: