"'What good does it do to wash my food, if I eat it out of dirty hands?' said Mr. c.o.o.n to himself, and he hurried to a quiet little pool to give them a good scrubbing. Then he washed his face and brushed his coat. 'Now I feel better, and I know my supper will taste better,' said he.

"From that time he began to be particular, very particular, about keeping himself clean, until finally there was no one on the Green Meadows or in the Green Forest quite so neat as Mr. c.o.o.n.

"Now at this time Mr. c.o.o.n had a very plain tail. It was all of one color, a grayish white, not at all pretty. Mr. c.o.o.n used to think a great deal about that tail and wish and wish that it was handsome.

Sometimes he used to envy Mr. Fox his beautiful red tail with its black and white tip. One day, as he sat on an old log with his chin in his hands, thinking about his tail, who should come along but Old Mother Nature.

"'Good morning, Mr. c.o.o.n,' said she in her pleasantest voice.

"Mr. c.o.o.n got up and made a very low bow. 'Good morning, Mother Nature,' he replied in his politest manner, which was very polite indeed.

"'What were you thinking about so hard?' asked Old Mother Nature.

"Mr. c.o.o.n looked a little bit ashamed. Then he sighed. 'I was wishing that my tail was handsomer,' said he. 'But it is a very good tail as it is,' he added hastily.

"Old Mother Nature's eyes twinkled. She sat down beside Mr. c.o.o.n and asked him all about his affairs, just as if she didn't know all about them already. She told him how pleased she was to find him so neat and clean, and Mr. c.o.o.n just tingled all over with pleasure. At last she got up to go, and her eyes twinkled more than ever, as she said:

"'By the way, Mr. c.o.o.n, I am so pleased with your neatness that I am leaving you a reward. I hope you will like it.'

"Mr. c.o.o.n didn't see any reward, but he thanked her just the same, and Old Mother Nature went on her way. Mr. c.o.o.n watched her out of sight.

Then he sat down on the old log again and scratched his head thoughtfully as he looked this way and that.

"'I wonder what she meant by reward. I don't see any anywhere,' he said to himself.

"By and by he just happened to glance at his tail. 'Oh!' cried Mr.

c.o.o.n, and then for a long time he couldn't say another word, but just looked and looked with shining eyes and such a queer feeling of happiness in his heart. You see, Old Mother Nature had left a beautiful, broad, black ring around his tail. Mr. c.o.o.n couldn't do anything the rest of that day but look at and admire that ring, until his neck ached from twisting it around so long.

"After that he was neater than ever, you may be sure, and the next time Old Mother Nature came around, she left another handsome black ring on his tail, because he hadn't grown careless, but had kept up his good habits.

"Now about this time, hard times came to all the little people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows. Every one began to grumble. Mr.

Bear grumbled. Mr. Fox grumbled. Mr. Rabbit grumbled. Mr. Jay grumbled. Mr. Squirrel grumbled. Even Mr. Chuck grumbled. And one and all they began to blame Old Mother Nature. Then they began to quarrel among themselves and to steal from each other. Some even left their homes and went out into the Great World to try to find a better place to live, only to find that the Great World was a harder place to live in than the Green Forest and the Green Meadows.

"But Mr. c.o.o.n didn't grumble, and he didn't go away. No, Sir, Mr. c.o.o.n just stuck to his home and did the best he could to find enough to eat. He kept himself as neat as ever and was always cheerful. Whenever he met one of his grumbling neighbors, he would say:

"'Better times coming! Better times coming! Old Mother Nature is doing the best she can. Better times coming!'

"The others would laugh at him for his faith in Old Mother Nature, and say ugly things about her, and urge Mr. c.o.o.n to go with them out into the Great World. But he kept right on minding his own business and keeping neat and cheerful, until at last Old Mother Nature, all worried and troubled, came to see what she could do to straighten matters out. It didn't take her long to find out how all the little meadow and forest people, except Mr. c.o.o.n, had grumbled and been discontented and said ugly things about her, for you can't fool Old Mother Nature, and it's of no use to try. Some she punished one way, and some she punished another way, for of course she hadn't been to blame for the hard times, but had been working night and day to put an end to them.

"Mr. c.o.o.n was the last to be called before her, and instead of being frowning and cross, as she had been to the others, she was all smiles.

She said a lot of nice things to him, and when at last she sent him away, what do you think she had given him?"

"More rings," cried Peter Rabbit.

"Yes," replied Grandfather Frog, "Mr. c.o.o.n's tail was ringed way to the tip. There was one for cheerfulness, and one for faith, and one for persistence in making the best of a bad matter and staying at home. And ever since that long-ago day when the world was young, the c.o.o.ns have been very proud of their beautiful tails and have kept up the good habits of old Mr. c.o.o.n. Now you know, Peter Rabbit, why Bobby c.o.o.n wears rings on his tail," concluded Grandfather Frog.

Peter gave a long sigh. "I think it's perfectly beautiful," he said.

"I wish I had rings on my tail."

And then he wondered why everybody laughed.

XII

WHY THERE IS A BLACK HEAD IN THE BUZZARD FAMILY

Ol' Mistah Buzzard had just told the story of why he has a bald head and is proud of it. You know he hasn't a feather on it, and it is very, very red. It was a very interesting story, and it had been listened to with the closest attention by a lot of the little meadow and forest people. Unc' Billy Possum, who is Ol' Mistah Buzzard's particular friend, both having come from "way down souf," happened along just in time to hear the end of it.

"May Ah ask yo' a question, Brer Buzzard?" said he.

"Cert'nly, Brer Possum. Cert'nly," replied Ol' Mistah Buzzard.

"Is Buzzard really your fam'ly name?" asked Unc' Billy.

"No, Brer Possum, it isn't," replied Ol' Mistah Buzzard. Everybody looked surprised. You see, no one ever had heard him called anything but Buzzard. But no one said anything, and after a minute or two Ol'

Mistah Buzzard explained.

"Mah fam'ly name is Vulture," said he. "Yes, Sah, mah fam'ly name is Vulture, but we-uns done been called Buzzards so long, that Ah don'

know as Ah would know Ah was being spoken to, if Ah was called Mistah Vulture."

"An' do Ah understand that all of your fam'ly have red haids?"

inquired Unc' Billy.

Ol' Mistah Buzzard looked down at Unc' Billy, and he saw a twinkle in Unc' Billy's shrewd little eyes. Ol' Mistah Buzzard grinned.

"Ah knows jes' what yo' done got in your mind, Brer Possum," said he.

"It's that trifling, no 'count cousin of mine. He's a Buzzard, or a Vulture, if yo' like that better, jes' like Ah am, but he belongs to another branch of the fam'ly. He has a bald haid, jes' like Ah have, but his haid is black instead of red. That's because his grandpap was trifling an' po' trash, jes' like he is."

Peter Rabbit p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. This sounded like another story. He was curious about that black-headed cousin of Ol' Mistah Buzzard, very curious indeed. He wondered if Ol' Mistah Buzzard would have to be teased for a story, like Grandfather Frog. Anyway, he would find out.

There would be no harm in trying.

"If you please, how does your cousin happen to have a black head?"

asked Peter as politely as he knew how.

"Because his grandpap asked too many questions," replied Ol' Mistah Buzzard, slyly winking at the others.

Everybody laughed, for everybody knows that no one asks more questions than Peter Rabbit. Peter laughed with the rest, although he looked a wee bit foolish. But he didn't mean to give up just because he was laughed at. Oh, my, no!

"Please, Mr. Buzzard, please tell us the story," he begged.

Now Ol' Mistah Buzzard is naturally good-natured and accommodating, and when Peter begged so hard, he just couldn't find it in his heart to refuse. Besides, he rather enjoys telling stories. So he shook his feathers out, half spread his wings to let the air blow under them, looked down at all the little meadow and forest people gathered about the foot of the tall, dead tree where he delights to roost, grinned at them in the funniest way, and then began this story:

"Way back in the days when Grandpap Buzzard had his lil falling out with ol' King Eagle and done fly so high he sco'tch the feathers offen his haid, he had a cousin, did Grandpap Buzzard, and this cousin was jes' naturally lazy and no 'count. Like most no 'count people, he used to make a regular nuisance of hisself, poking his nose into ev'ybody's business and never 'tending to his own. Wasn't anything going on that this trifling member of the Buzzard fam'ly didn't find out about and meddle in. He could ask mo' questions than Peter Rabbit can, an'

anybody that can do that has got to ask a lot."

Everybody looked at Peter and laughed. Peter made a funny face and laughed too.

"Seemed like he jes' went 'round from mo'ning to night asking questions," continued Ol' Mistah Buzzard, "Got so that eve'ybody dreaded to see that no 'count Buzzard coming, because he bound to pester with questions about things what don't concern him no ways.