The children said they were very much pleased with the story about the Cow with the Golden Horns. Buster John even went so far as to say that it was as good as some of the stories in the books. But Mr. Thimblefinger shook his head. He said he was very glad they were pleased with it, but he knew Mr. Rabbit was right. The story couldn’t be a very good story, because it had no moral.  
“But I think it had a very good moral,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.
 
“What was it?” inquired Mr. Rabbit with great solemnity.
 
“Why, if the little girl had been too stingy to give the old beggar a piece of her cake, she would never have come to be Princess,” replied Mrs. Meadows.
 
“Did she give the beggar a piece of cake?” asked Mr. Rabbit.
 
“Why, certainly she did,” Mr. Thimblefinger answered.
 
“Well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, setting himself back in his chair, “I must have been fast asleep when she did it. But the place for a moral, as I’ve been told, is right at the end of a story, and not at the beginning.”
 
“Can’t you tell us a story with a moral?” suggested Mrs. Meadows.
 
“I can,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “I can for a fact, and the piece of cake you mentioned puts me in mind of it.”
 
Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes and rubbed his nose, and then began:—
 
“Once upon a time, when Brother Fox and myself were living on pretty good terms with each other, we received an invitation to attend a barbecue that Brother Wolf was going to give on the following Saturday. The next day we received an invitation to a barbecue that Brother Bear was going to give on the same Saturday.
 
“I made up my mind at once to go to Brother Bear’s barbecue, because I knew he would have fresh roasting ears, and if there’s anything I like better than another, it is fresh roasting ears. I asked Brother Fox whether he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue or to Brother Wolf’s, but he shook his head. He said he hadn’t made up his mind. I just asked him out of idle curiosity, for I didn’t care whether he went or whether he stayed.
 
“I went about my work as usual. Cold weather was coming on, and I wanted to get my crops in before the big freeze came. But I noticed that Brother Fox was mighty² restless in his mind. He didn’t do a stroke of work. He’d sit down and then he’d get up; he’d stand still and look up in the tops of the trees, and then he’d walk back and forth³ with his hands behind him and look down at the ground.
 
“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope you are not sick, Brother Fox.’
 
“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit; I never felt better in my life.’
 
“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope money matters are not troubling you.’
 
“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit, money was never easier with me than it is this season.’
 
“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope I’ll have the pleasure of your company to the barbecue to-morrow.’
 
“Says he, ‘I can’t tell, Brother Rabbit; I can’t tell. I haven’t made up my mind. I may go to the one, or I may go to the other; but which it will be, I can’t tell you to save my life.’
 
“As the next day was Saturday, I was up bright and early. I dug my goobers and spread ’em out to dry in the sun, and then, ten o’clock, as near as I could judge, I started out to the barbecue. Brother Wolf lived near the river, and Brother Bear lived right on the river, a mile or two below Brother Wolf’s. The big road, that passed near where Brother Fox and I lived, led in the direction of the river for about three miles, and then it forked, one prong going to Brother Wolf’s house, and the other prong going to Brother Bear’s house.
 
“Well, when I came to the forks of the road, who should I see there but old Brother Fox. I stopped before he saw me, and watched him. He went a little way down one road, and licked his chops; then he came back and went a little way down the other road, and licked his chops.
 
“Not choosing to be late, I showed myself and passed the time of day with Brother Fox. I said, says I, that if he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue, I’d be glad to have his company. But he said, says he, that he wouldn’t keep me waiting. He had just come down to the forks of the road to see if that would help him to make up his mind. I told him I was mighty sorry to miss his company and his conversation, and then I tipped my hat and took my cane⁴ from under my arm and went down the road that led to Brother Bear’s house.”
 
Here Mr. Rabbit paused, straightened himself up a little, and looked at the children. Then he continued:—
 
“I reckon you all never stood on the top of a hill three quarters of a mile from the smoking pits and got a whiff or two of the barbecue?”
 
“I is! I is!” exclaimed Drusilla. “Don’t talk! Hit make me dribble⁵ at de mouf. I wish I had some right now.”
 
“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, “I got a whiff of it and I was truly glad I had come—truly glad. It was a fine barbecue, too. There was lamb, and kid, and shote, all cooked to a turn and well seasoned, and then there was the hash made out of the giblets. I’ll not tell you any ............