But when I had raised my head out of the earth I found a big
stone over me, and now I can grow no more. I've pushed and pushed
until my back aches, and I can't lift the stone."
"I'll do it for you," said Uncle Wiggily kindly, and he did, taking it
off the Pulpit-Jack.
Then the Jack began growing up, and he had been held down so long that
he grew quite quickly, so that even while Uncle Wiggily was watching,
the Jack and his pulpit were almost regular size.
A Jack-in-the-Pulpit, you know, is a queer flower that grows in our
woods. Sometimes it is called an Indian turnip, but don't eat it, for
it is very biting. The Jack is a tall green chap, who stands in the
middle of his pulpit, which is like a little pitcher, with a curved top
to it. A pulpit, you know, is where some one preaches on Sunday.
"Thank you very much for lifting the stone off me so I could grow,"
said the Jack to Uncle Wiggily. "If ever I can do you a favor I will."
"Oh, pray don't mention it," replied the rabbit gentleman, with a low
bow. "It was a mere pleasure, I assure you."
Then the rabbit gentleman hopped on to the store, to get the matches,
the crackers, the bread and other things for Nurse Jane.
"And I must be sure not to forget the matches," Uncle Wiggily said to
himself. "If I did Nurse Jane could not make a fire to cook supper.
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