supper?"

"No, Grand-daddy, but my little jacket is nearly bursting. Ah, that is too
funny! Guess I shall laugh all night."

"I fear you have outgrown your band suit, Buster," said Mother Graymouse.
"I shall have to give you less to eat."

"Ah no, Mammy!" cried Buster in alarm. "Please don't starve me. Oh! oh!
What Robert Giant realty said was:

"'Peter picked a pint of pickled pipers.'"

"What's pipers, Buster?" asked Tiny.

"I don't know; prob'ly something good to eat. It was one of Robert's funny
songs, twinnie. I can make nicer songs myself," bragged Buster.

"All ready for the concert!" shouted Uncle Squeaky.

Wink and Buster found their cornets; Limpy-toes brought his flute, Wiggle
his fife, Scamper the alto horn, and Nimble-toes his beloved drum. At a
signal from Uncle Squeaky, the little band began to play Silvy's Waltz.

It was late when they had played all the music they could remember. The
moonlight cast long shadows over the dewy grass and even the Frog
Orchestra was hushed and listening.

[Illustration: _The little band began to play Silvy's Waltz_.]