Nothing to say at all, oh, ho!

Except good-by to the old black crow-- The rollicking old black crow!

They made a good deal of fuss over Mr. Crow's poem. They applauded, of course, but they said it wasn't so at all, and that Mr. Crow was a good deal more than "just nothing." They said that it was he who had got up this party, and that he was the best man to plan and cook anywhere. Mr.

'Possum said he even liked Mr. Crow's April fool chicken pies, and then they all remembered and laughed, even to Mr. Crow himself. After that it was Mr. Squirrel's turn. Mr. Squirrel coughed twice and straightened his vest before he began, so they knew his poem wasn't to be funny.

THE FOOLISH LITTLE LAD

BY MR. GRAY SQUIRREL

Once on a time, the story goes, A silly squirrel lad One summer day did run away-- Which made his ma feel bad.

She hunted for him up and down And round and round she ran-- Alas, that foolish squirrel boy Was caught by Mr. Man.

For he had tried to climb a tree As Mr. Man came past.

"I'll make you climb!" said Mr. Man, And walked home pretty fast.

When he got there a boy came out As Mr. Man went in.

That silly squirrel soon was put Into a house of tin.

"Now you can climb!" said Mr. Man, But when he did he found That nice tin house, so bright and new, Turned round and round and round.

And there he climbs and climbs all day And never seems to stop, And I have heard my mother say He'll never reach the top.

When Mr. Squirrel sat down there wasn't a dry eye in the room, and even Mr. Dog outside was affected. He said he'd seen that poor little squirrel at Mr. Man's house turning and turning away in his tin wheel, and felt so sorry for him that two or three times he'd tried to get him out. He said, though, that Mr. Man had always caught him at it and that then they didn't get on well for a day or two. He was so tender hearted, though, he said, that he couldn't help pitying the little fellow, climbing and climbing all day long and never getting anywhere. Mr.

'Possum shivered, and said it reminded him of bad dreams he'd had sometimes, when he'd eaten too much supper, and dreamed of climbing the rainbow. Then they all sat still and waited for Mr. Turtle, who came next.

MY SNUG HOUSE

BY D'LAND TURTLE

Oh, what do I care for your houses of wood, Your houses of brick or of stone, When I have a house that is cozy and good-- A beautiful house of my own?

And the doors will not sag and the roof will not crack Of the house that I carry about on my back.

It is never too large and 'tis never too small, It is with me wherever I roam.

In spring or in summer, in winter or fall, I always can find my way home.

For it isn't so hard to remember the track To the house that you carry about on your back.

Well, of course, everybody applauded that, and then it was Mr. 'c.o.o.n's time. Mr. 'c.o.o.n said he was like Mr. 'Possum. He wasn't much on poetry, and only had four lines. He said they were some like Mr. 'Possum's too.

THE BEST THINGS

BY Z. 'c.o.o.n

I like the spring, I like the fall, I like the cold and heat, And poems, too, but best of all I like good things to eat.

That brought the house down, and the Hollow Tree people thought the entertainment was over. They were going to have supper right away, but Mr. Dog called out to wait a minute. He said he had a little poem himself that he wanted to read. So out of politeness they all sat still, though they didn't expect very much. Then Mr. Dog unrolled his poem and leaned over close to the blinds and commenced to read.

MY FOREST FRIENDS

BY MR. DOG

Oh, dear to me my forest friends, Especially Mr. Rabbit-- I love his poetry very much, And every gentle habit.

And dear to me is Mr. 'c.o.o.n, And also Mr. 'Possum; I hope to win their friendship soon-- 'Twill be a precious blossom.

And Mr. Crow and Robin, too, With fancy sweet and fertile, And Mr. Squirrel, kind and true, And likewise Mr. Turtle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LEANED OVER CLOSE TO THE BLINDS AND COMMENCED TO READ]

Oh, dear to me my forest friends, Especially Mr. Rabbit-- I love his poetry very much, And every gentle habit.

Before Mr. Dog was half through reading the Hollow Tree people had gathered around the window to listen. By the time he got to the end of the third stanza he had to stop for them to cheer, and when he read the last one, Jack Rabbit pounded on the shutter with his fist and shouted, "Hurrah for Mr. Dog! Hurrah for Mr. Dog!" just as loud as ever he could, while all the others crowded up and shouted and tried to pound, too.

Well, maybe the shutter wasn't very strong, or maybe they crowded and pounded too hard in their excitement over Mr. Dog's nice poem, for all at once there was a loud crack and the shutter flew open and out went Mr. Rabbit right smack into the arms of Mr. Dog!

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUT WENT MR. RABBIT RIGHT SMACK INTO THE ARMS OF MR. DOG]

I tell you that was pretty sudden and Mr. Rabbit was scared. So were all the others, and they were going to grab the shutter and close it again and leave Mr. Rabbit out there. But Jack Rabbit thinks quick.

"Oh, Mr. Dog," he said, "that was the nicest poem I ever heard. Let me embrace you, Mr. Dog, and be your friend for ever after!"

Then he hugged Mr. Dog just as tight as he could, and Mr. Dog hugged him, too, and shed tears, he was that happy. He had been wanting to make up with the forest people for a long time, but he hadn't expected this.

Then the others all saw how it was and they shouted, "Hurrah for Mr.

Dog!" again and invited him in. And Mr. Dog went in and they had the biggest supper and the biggest time that ever was known in the Hollow Tree.

And that's how Mr. Dog got to be friends with all the Hollow Tree people at last. And he stayed friends with them ever and ever so long--and longer--just as long as he lived, for the Mr. Dog that isn't good friends with them now isn't the same Mr. Dog. And he isn't as smart, either, for he can't write poetry, and he's never even been able to find the Hollow Tree where the 'c.o.o.n and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow live together and every summer keep open house for their friends.

MR. RABBIT'S UNWELCOME COMPANY

MR. POLECAT MAKES A MORNING CALL AND MR. DOG DROPS IN

I THINK I shall have to tell you about Mr. Polecat, said the Story Teller, and about his visit to Mr. Rabbit.

"Who's Mr. Polecat?" said the Little Lady. "You never told me about him before."

Well, no, because you see Mr. Polecat is so queer in some of his ways that people even don't talk about him a great deal. He is really quite a nice gentleman, though, when he doesn't get excited. But when he does he loses friends.

The trouble is with the sort of perfumery he uses when he gets excited, just as some people use a smelling-bottle, and n.o.body seems to like the sort Mr. Polecat uses except himself. I suppose he must like it or he wouldn't be so free with it. But other people go away when he uses it--mostly in the direction the wind's blowing from--and in a hurry, as if they were afraid they'd miss a train. Even Mr. Dog doesn't stop to argue with Mr. Polecat. n.o.body does, and all the other Deep Woods people do their best to make him happy and to keep him in a good humor whenever he comes about, and give him their nicest things to eat and a lot to carry home with him, so he'll start just as soon as possible.

But, more than anything, they try to keep him from saying anything about Mr. Dog, or hinting or even thinking about Mr. Dog, for when he does any of these things he's apt to get excited, and then sometimes he opens up that perfume of his, and his friends fall over each other to get out of reach. They're never very happy to see him coming, and they're always glad to see him go, even when he's had a quiet visit and goes pretty soon, which is just what didn't happen one time when he came to call on Jack Rabbit, and it's that time I'm going to tell about. This was before Mr. Dog made up with the Hollow Tree people; I don't know exactly how long before, but a good while.