The Wabbit's fur could hold many things. But when he took out the object out, it became the original size. He struggled a bit, but he was in the right room and no-one was about. He offered the painting up then slapped a paw to his head. It was back to front. With a bit of effort, he righted it then attached the fixings. Finally, it was on the wall. He stood back. It looked as if it had always been there. Someone was coming so he turned to look at a different painting. An attendant passed it by as if it had always been there and disappeared into another room. "Phew," gasped the Wabbit. Then more people arrived and gathered around. They looked the painting up and down and discussed its merits. Then one saw him. The Wabbit froze flat against a wall. "Early depiction of a wabbit," said the viewer. "Late sixteenth or early seventeenth century," nodded another. "Just look at the brushwork." The studied him for a while. "The work of one of Caravaggio's students?" suggested another. "Lovely blues, just look at the pigment," said yet another. They gazed for a while. "Let's view the others and come back" said the first. They moved on. The Wabbit saw his chance and crept quietly away. The viewers returned but the wabbit had gone. "It's been stolen," they gasped, "raise the alarm." A frenzy broke out, but the Wabbit was far off in the cafeteria, sipping a Prosecco and chuckling. But his plan was far from complete ...
