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Updated: May 10, 2025
Nothing had happened at the Wibblewobble house in several days, and Jimmie and Lulu and Alice were beginning to feel that it was about time they went off on another picnic, or else tried to find the fairy prince again. But, one day, just as Jimmie was looking for his baseball and his catching glove, his mamma came out of the pantry, where she had gone to get some dishes to set the table.
So they agreed to do that way, and for the next few days the frog boys were busy making themselves up to look like Indians. Their mother let them take some old blankets, and they got some red and green chalk to put on their faces for war paint, and they found a lot of feathers over at the homes of Charlie and Arabella Chick, and the three Wibblewobble duck children.
Well, Grandpa Wibblewobble gave each of the Wibblewobble children some nice sugared corn meal, flavored with sweet flag, peppermint and watercress, and a few snails to eat, and maybe they didn't like them! "Now," said grandpa, "you children go out to play, while we old folks talk about the weather and rheumatism," for you see rheumatism was about all Uncle Wiggily cared to talk about.
Why, he stood right up on his head, and reached his bill down beneath the pond, and got some of the nicest grass that ever was. "There," said the old gentleman duck, poking up his head, "do as I did, little ones." So those three Wibblewobble children did, and pretty soon, Alice and Jimmie had as much as they could eat, and raised their heads.
Will you take us there some day, Alice?" "Perhaps," she said, but before they made that trip something else happened, which you shall hear about to-morrow night if I find a green popcorn ball with a pink ribbon on it. It's a story of a visit to Grandpa Wibblewobble's house. Jimmie Wibblewobble was playing marbles with Bully, the frog, one day.
Wibblewobble is our mamma," answered Lulu, quickly. "Oh, my dears! You don't mean it!" cried the goat. "Then you must be my little nieces and nephew I've heard so much about. But who is this little green boy? I've seen him before." "Oh, he's the catcher on our base ball nine," said Jimmie. "He catches the balls in his mouth. But, who are you, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
Now, if the window curtain doesn't fly up lickety-split and come off the roller, I'll tell you to-morrow night about Jimmie flying a kite. Jimmie Wibblewobble was out flying his kite. He had made it all himself, out of sticks, and paste, and paper and strings, and it was a very fine kite indeed. It was nearly as large as the little boy duck, and it was the kind of a kite that doesn't need a tail.
They had just finished one game, and were beginning another when Alice Wibblewobble came alone. "Jimmie," she said, "mamma wants you." "What does she want?" asked her brother. "She wants you to come for a walk in the woods with us. Papa is going along. Come right away." "Aw, I'd rather play with Bully," answered Jimmie, but just then his mamma called him, and he had to go.
Then, all at once, when they were in the front yard of the Wibblewobble home, if a silver trumpet didn't sound in the woods: "Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra!" just like that, and up came riding a little boy, all in silver and gold, on a white horse. He wanted to know if he was too late for the party, the little boy did, and when Uncle Wiggily said yes, the little boy was much disappointed.
I don’t know, but anyhow Mrs. Wibblewobble gave him one when she made some for Bully and Jimmie. Well, now I’m coming to the Alice part of the story. As Jimmie and Bully were eating their sandwiches on the back porch, not minding the rain in the least, all at once Lulu Wibblewobble came waddling along. As soon as she got to the steps she called out: “Oh, is Alice home yet?”
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