There was always something happening in this stwip of road, thought the Wabbit. I should have gone another way (and there were many other ways). He couldn't see a real man with a spade anywhere. But he supposed there was one, because of the chopped wood. They were always chopping wood, which annoyed the Wabbit. What would happen when they ran out of trees and there was no more wood to chop? The Wabbit shook his head and sniffed a bit. Why should he care anyway? Trees were not absolutely necessary, but he liked them all the same. Except for the leaves. When the leaves fell, men came with blowing things that made a terrible noise. But all they seemed to do was move the leaves from one place to another. People are vewy strange, thought the Wabbit.
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