The Wabbit was at last in his very own street and although it looked far, his home was near enough. The weather had turned damp and wet. The snow was disappearing fast and that was good news for the Wabbit. His cousin wabbits in the Arctic could keep it, thought the Wabbit. “When I get home”, further speculated the Wabbit, “perhaps there will be an enormous log fire and I will dry my fur with speed.” The Wabbit’s fur was prone to wetness but deep inside the Wabbit was warm. “Next year”, thought the Wabbit, “I shall be more prepared for inclement weather!” And then the Wabbit was very tickled with his vocabulary and made a soft grinding noise with his jaws. Then the Wabbit spoke loudly to himself. “If I had any boots, I would be far too big for them!” And the Wabbit laughed and laughed and laughed
