“Come and see! come and see, What Canary has for thee.”
There in the little nest were a lot of the tiniest eggs, and all bright yellow, just the color of Mrs. Canary herself.
“Oh, you gentle little thing--you so good to give me youh cunning little eggs.”
Then a white dove cooed from its house near by,--
“Coo-coo, you are true, Come and take my gift for you.”
Her gift was six eggs, pure white, with just the tiniest little pink polkadots in them. While she was admiring them she heard a gentle purr, which seemed to come from the ground under her feet, and looking down she saw peeping from a moss-lined hole in the ground a pair of pink eyes, and a white, soft paw, as the voice of this Easter rabbit purred,--
“Put your hand into the ground, And find what no one else has found.”
“Well, I likee find what no one else has found,” she said; and putting her hand into the moss-lined nest, she drew out--not an egg, as she had expected, but six of the tiniest baby rabbits, no bigger than her thumb.
“Oh, you cunning little babies! You shall go and live with me,” said Mun Chee; and thanking the Easter rabbit, she passed on to the home of a blue-bird, on a swinging bough, and heard her singing,--
“Roses red, my eggs are blue, Come! and I will give you two.”
What a beautiful blue they were, to be sure! just like the sky. Then a loud cackling fell upon her ear, and she could distinguish the words,--
“If you will give me a piece of bread I’ll bring you some eggs, all bright and red.”
She saw that the queer voice came from a bright red little hen, who gave her some beautiful eggs when she had given the bread.
Following the sound of a sharp voice she walked along the path until she came to a most beautiful peacock, gorgeous in the spread of its wonderful plumage.
This pleased her more than any of the others, because the peacock feather is sacred to the Chinese, and is used in their temples where they pray to the joss. The peacock’s offering was a very large bunch of these brilliant feathers, to take to her _mo chun_, while it said in a queer, sharp voice,--
“It matters not, my little one, how stormy is the weather; The joss will always care for those who have a peacock feather.”
“Now for the last place,” said Queen Bunny; and following the sound of a terrible screeching noise, they climbed a ladder into a tall tree, and there was a beautiful American eagle. It was not cross a bit, as eagles usually are, but was singing,--