STORY XX

FLOP AND THE PIE LADY

Uncle Wiggily Longears, the nice old gentleman rabbit, and the two
piggie boys, Flop Ear and Curly Tail, were sitting on the porch at
the bungalow at Raccoon Island, Lake Hopatcong, wondering what they
could do next for their autumn vacation fun. Curly was trying to
take some snapshot photographs of a little red squirrel, who was
jumping down across the cot beds, all in a row like soldiers, and
Flop was wondering whether he could catch any fish.

"Well, we must do something," said Uncle Wiggily. "It isn't every
day you boys get a vacation after the regular summer one, so you
must enjoy it."

"We wouldn't have gotten it if the roof hadn't blown off our
school," said Flop, "and, as long as we're here, I say let's go off
in the woods and look for chestnuts."

"All right," said Curly, and they were just going to leave the
bungalow, when, all at once, there was a rustling in the bushes and
out came--no, not a bear or a wolf, or even a bad skillery-scalery
alligator, this time. No, it was a nice lady, with real soft, brown
hair, and the jolliest whistle you ever heard!

What's that? You didn't know ladies could whistle? Well, this one
could, and play the piano at the same time. Out she came from the
bushes, and she said:

"Oh, Uncle Wiggily, I'm so glad to see you and the two little piggie
boys."

"Well, we are glad to see you, too," said Uncle Wiggily, politely
making his best bow, "but I'm afraid I don't know you."

"Oh, yes, you do," said the lady. "I make pies, and if you like I'll
make one now."

"Will you, really?" cried Flop. "Oh, I would dearly love an apple
pie, with a bit of sour milk cheese."

"Then you shall have it," said the lady, as she trilled out a little
tune by whistling until it sounded like a bird in the lilac bush.
"Have you any apples?" she asked, puckering up her lips.

"Yes!" exclaimed Flop. "Here they are!" and he brought out a
basketful. The lady said they would make a lovely pie, so she rolled
up her sleeves, and spoke, saying:

"Now, I am sorry, but I would like you all to leave the bungalow.
You, Uncle Wiggily, and you, also, Flop and Curly. For when I make
apple pies I get all kerslostrated--which means fussed--if any one
is around. So kindly run away, and when you come back the pie will
be ready for you."

"All right; we'll go," said Uncle Wiggily. "I'll go pull my
motorboat up on dry land, so it won't get caught in the ice when the
lake freezes this winter, and you boys can help me."

So Curly and Flop went off to help Uncle Wiggily, and the pie lady--
for such they called her--started her baking. She peeled the apples
and cut them up, and then she got the piecrust mixed. Uncle Wiggily
had already built a fire so she did not have to do that. And all the
while she whistled and whistled, until it made you feel glad and
happy just to hear her. And when you smelled that apple pie baking--
well, say! I mustn't write any more about that, or I'll want to put
my typewriter down cellar, and go out hunting for the lady myself.

Pretty soon Flop, who was helping Uncle Wiggily with the motorboat,
sniffed the air, grunted once or twice, and said:

"I smell something good! I guess I'll go see what it is."

"All right," said Curly, who was quite tired from having a__isted
his rabbit uncle to haul up the boat. "I'll stay here, Flop, and
when you find the good thing that you smell, bring me some."

So Flop promised, and he kept sniffling away, and the lovely smell
grew plainer and plainer as he moved toward the bungalow, until he
exclaimed:

"Ah, I know what it is! The pie lady! Oh, I wonder if the pie is
done?"

Nearer and nearer he went to the bungalow, and he heard a whistle,
and then he saw the pie lady bustling around with a long apron on,
and Flop asked:

"Is the pie done?"

"Almost, little piggie boy," she answered.

"You may wait for it to come out of the oven. How old are you?"

"Seven," said Flop, and then he asked the lady.

"What is your name?"

"Margaret," she answered. "Margaret More."

"More what?" asked Flop.

"More pies, I guess," laughed the pie lady as she whistled again,
this time just like a canary trilling when it swings at the top of
its cage in the sunshine. Curly laughed, too, and then the lady went
to the oven to take out the pie.

And, would you ever believe it if I didn't tell you? No, I'm sure
you wouldn't. But, anyhow, all of a sudden, out from the bushes came
a bad, fuzzy old wolf, and he stood in front of the bungalow,
crying:

"I smell apple pies! I smell apple pies! Also a little piggie boy!
Oh, what a fine lunch I am going to have!"

Well, Flop was so frightened that he couldn't even walk, much less
run, and all he could do was to squeal, "Oh dear!"

The pie lady heard him, and came running to the door of the
bungalow.

"What is the matter?" she asked, and then she saw the wolf.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "What shall I do?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed the wolf, sticking out his red tongue. "I'll do
all that's necessary. But first I'll eat the apple pie, and then
I'll carry you and Flop off to my den!"

Well, when Flop heard that--heard that the wolf was going to eat the
lovely pie--he became real brave, that little piggie boy did.

"You shan't have that pie!" he cried.

Then the wolf, with a big jump, started for the bungalow to get the
pie and the pie lady, but what do you think Flop did? He just
grabbed up the pan of apple peelings--long, curling peelings they
were--and he threw them at the wolf! Right at the bad creature's
legs he threw them, and the apple peelings tangled up in the wolf's
fur and in his tail, and his legs and paws, and head-over-heels he
went, falling down on the ground and b__ping his nose on a hard
stone.

"Oh, wow! Oh, woe is me! Oh too-badness!" growled the wolf, and he
ran away to his den to get some salve to put on his b__ped nose, and
so he didn't get the pie lady, nor the pie, nor Flop, either, at
least not that day.

Then the apple pie was done, and the pie lady whistled a nicer song
than ever, and Curly and Uncle Wiggily came to the bungalow and they
all ate pie and were as happy as happy could be. But, as for the
wolf, the less said about him the better.

So on the next page, in case the door-k___ doesn't tickle the dining
room bread-board and make the sawdust come out of the breakfast
oatmeal, I'll tell you about the piggie boys and the jelly.

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