"Sure enough, that _is_ a cherry tree," said Uncle Wiggily, as he hopped
over and looked at it. "And the cherries are ripe, too. Now, if I could
only get some of them down I could make a cherry pie, and cure Grandfather
Goosey Gander."
But it wasn't easy to get the cherries off the tree, and Uncle Wiggily
couldn't climb up after them. So he sat down and looked up at them, hoping
some would fall off the stems. But none did.
"Oh, dear, I wonder how I'm going to get them?" sighed the rabbit.
"Perhaps I can knock off some with a stone."
So he threw a stone, but no cherries came down. The stone did, though,
and hit Uncle Wiggily on the nose, making him sneeze.
"Stones are no good!" exclaimed the rabbit. "I'll throw up my crutch." So
he threw that into the tree, but it brought no cherries down, and the
crutch, in falling, nearly hit Grandfather Goosey Gander, and almost gave
him the measles and mumps.
"Well, I'll try and see what throwing up my valise will do," said the
rabbit, and he tossed up the satchel, but bless you, that stayed up in the
tree, and didn't come down at all, neither did any cherries.
"Oh, I'll have to give up," said Uncle Wiggily. "I'm afraid you can't have
any cherry pie, Grandfather Goosey."
"Oh, then I'll never get well," said the old duck-drake gentleman
sorrowfully.
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