Hi! My name is Bella, and I am a little bunny. I have the cutest little paws ever, and I love to wiggle my nose. I live in a burrow right next to a lovely stream in the beautiful Enchanted Forest. Have you ever been there? It’s the loveliest place I can imagine. The trees are tall and green, the flowers bloom in splendid colors, and music always fills the air—music made by the birds, frogs, and even the rustling leaves. Yes, it’s a very special place!
Yet sometimes, I wish for a different place to be. I think the forest is too big and full of strange places and voices. The mushrooms by the stream at evening time are very pretty, but I feel too timid to venture there alone in the dark. The grassy knoll not far from my home looks so interesting from the distance, but oh dear! Can you imagine how many awful things might frighten you there? And how far away the grassy knoll is from my home! I sometimes feel afraid to visit my dear friends Timmy and Tilly perched on their gallant tree.
“You must go out into the world, little Bella,” chirps Wise Old Daddy Opossum, who lives on the other side of the stream. “You miss many of the best things in life by staying at home.” And I try to believe it is so.
Sometimes I look in the little mirror my grandmother gave me. I look at the long, soft, white hair, my bright shiny eyes, my pink, smiling mouth, and think I am a very pretty bunny. I would like to go and play with the other funny little creatures and explore the delightful forest. I hear so much twittering and fussing from the birds learning to fly. Mama partridge is calling her offspring, “Drum, drum, drum!” she calls. I suppose this is her way of saying “Hurry Up.” Just think! Little quail-babies are getting pushed from their cozy nests here in my very neighborhood this fine day.
Little Quasie’s and little Kai’s little feet tap to the ground as they come from their shelters, but if they see even a shadow pass over them, they swim under the leaves again, as frightened as frightened can be. Oh, how brave these little creatures are! I am sure they feel very strange when they first go out of their nests.
And so, as I said before, I do wish, oh, so very much, I mean to be very brave and little by little, to go about and see things. I’ve heard a great deal about the splendid things in the forest. But how can I? It is all so strange to me, and who knows what dangers may lie in my path?
You might ask why I am talking to you about these things. I’ll tell you why. Today I am going to venture where I have never been before. I want you to come with me.
I looked into my little mirror and smoothed my soft white fur and made my fluffy little tail as fluffy and pretty as I could. I plumped my two neat little ears so that one stood up and the other inclined forward. I wanted to make as neat a little figure as I possibly could, and of course I had my heart in my work.
It was so hot today, I didn’t know how to set about. I decided I would go to the top of the high hill where my friends Timmy and Tilly live. Yes, I mean to go. This is what I thought: I have often at night heard the sweet whistle of the little brown fellow with the trumpet-like voice who lives on the grassy knoll. I know I could hear it if I stood quietly down by the stream.
Yes, I mean to go. Somehow, I feel I ought to. I can’t satisfy myself about it, thirty naughty thoughts pop into my head all at once.
But never mind! Even if I am frightened, I’m sure I shall feel brave and remembered. It will do me good. You know, sometimes we go everywhere to please others while pleasing ourselves, and seeing wonderful things at the same time. It delights me still to see mama, when I hop to her to ask what I should do.
“Dear Mama,” I said, “I am going to climb the Grassy Knoll today.”
I was just shaking my head for “Yes,” when a prickle prickle came in my paw. Oh dear! What’s that? What! Did you cry out too? I did not see what it was and so I put the other paw down.
“A thorn! oh dear, a thorn!” I said. Mamma gently pulled it out. She was very near when I found it. But my little heart stopped jumping. What! are you going, too? Would you not rather say you had not the opportunity? Very well then! We will go together.
On reaching the big tree out there in the field, I feel a little strange, it is so far from home. But when I reached Timmy and Tilly’s tree, what a nice cool breeze was blowing there! One little tea-rose that climbed over the tree took pity on me quivering the whole time I was coming up, and waved its leaves as a fan for me. That is how Tilly dropped off to sleep the other day.
But, oh dear, I forgot all about little birds. As I had jumped into the little box where they were eating, I could not help trembling. You ought to have seen how one little mouthful did frighten me! Three little mouths opened so wide, and all at once, at my footsteps I tripped over a funny little round thing. What do you think it was? Why, a bay-hole from some acorn fell from one of the oratorical gentlemen’s (that is Timmy and Tilly’s nickname for the crows) attentions. That was all. But really it did shock me very much.
Would you like to know what I heard? Why, it was a lovely song of “The Starry Night” sung sweetly by little Larkie.
“My little quail,” said Mama, “sang so not long ago before winter set in. She sang so loudly and the weather was so mild and we had no snow soon after.” And so I told Timmy and Tilly about the song and about little Larkie’s house.
Little blue-eyed, sweet-smelling, unafraid pedlar-boys hopped to and fro on the grassy knoll. Leather-wings flitted here and there, as if afraid his pretty leatherette clothes should get dusty. By the cuckoo’s nest lies a long, shaggy cotton-patch down by the roadside. Yes, I remember when Kate and Dick came to play by the brook, and how they laughed at the cotton-balls blown off the bees.
By and by, we got so full of potential adventures we promised one another to meet there at sunset. Will you come, too?
Well! Adieu! Our little feet have all got the same road to travel over and I jog along a little ahead. What? are you going to put the little feet of your comrades into a grindstone? Well, perhaps!
Little Timmy and Tilly have already gone half-way down the tree-top, they took the damp grassy path. I prefer jumping down the stone-gray, slanting trunk. I forgot to tell you about Mr. Crow, who was watching the betrothal of Little Quasie’s and Little Kai’s parents, and who also gave me a message to tell about the weather. It was he who found us little creatures at the field’s-end. The little boys said it was time to go home, as evening was now a while ago.
After all, you see, I did not venture into the far-away part of the forest, like my heart prompted me to. That carries out what I said this morning—that I have to go and prove my courage little by little.
You won’t speak or sing about what I told you, will you? You know I would never dare to go out into the big world alone. I’m afraid it is still too strange, and our burrow too warm and good. At all events, we fix upon a time soon. A month hence—in October, which is very near, and when you would be happy to be at home up to your eyes under the snow that falls and lies in big white heaps; but—Good night! Adieu!