I am
thirsty myself, but we cannot drink until it
rains, and it has not rained in a long, long time."
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried the
other voices again. "How thirsty we are!"
"That's too bad," thought Uncle Wiggily.
"I would not wish even the bad fox to be thirsty.
I must see if I can not be of some help."
So he peeked through the bushes and saw some trees.
"Was it you who were talking about being
thirsty?" asked the rabbit gentleman, curious like.
"Yes," answered the big voice. "I am a horse
chestnut tree, and these are my children," and
the large tree waved some branches, like fingers,
at some small trees growing under her.
"And they, I suppose, are pony chestnut
trees," said Uncle Wiggily.
"That's what we are!" cried the little trees,
"and we are very thirsty."
"Indeed they are," said the mother tree. "You
see we are not like you animals. We cannot
walk to a spring or well to get a drink when
we are thirsty. We have to stay, rooted in one
place, and wait for the rain, or until some one waters us."
"Well, some one is going to water you right
away!" cried Uncle Wiggily in his jolly voice.
"I'll bring you some water from the duck pond,
which is near by."
Then, borrowing a pail from Mrs. Wibblewobble,
the duck lady, Uncle Wiggily poured
water all around the dry earth, in which grew
the horse chestnut tree and the little pony trees.
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