You see, not
in all the Old Pasture, or the Green Forest, was there so slim and trim
and neat and dainty a Rabbit as little Miss Fuzzytail, and she was very,
very particular about her appearance.
By and by, Tommy Tit stopped to rest. He looked down at Miss Fuzzytail
and winked a saucy black eye. Miss Fuzzytail winked back. Then both
laughed, for they were very good friends, indeed.
"Tell me, Tommy Tit, all about Peter Rabbit," commanded little Miss
Fuzzytail. And Tommy did.
CHAPTER XIV
SOME ONE FOOLS OLD JED THUMPER
You cannot judge a person's temper by his size. There is more meanness
in the head of a Weasel than in the whole of a Bear.
Peter Rabbit.
Old Jed Thumper sat in his bull-briar castle in the middle of the Old
Pasture, scowling fiercely and muttering to himself. He was very angry,
was Old Jed Thumper. He was so angry that presently he stopped muttering
and began to chew rapidly on nothing at all but his temper, which is a
way angry Rabbits have.
The more he chewed his temper, the angrier he grew. He was big and stout
and strong and gray. He had lived so long in the Old Pasture that he
felt that it belonged to him and that no other Rabbit had any right
there unless he said so. Yet here was a strange Rabbit who had had the
impudence to come up from the Green Meadows and refused to be driven
away. Such impudence!
Of course it was Peter Rabbit of whom Old Jed Thumper was thinking.
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