His mother, Mrs Koala, seemed to be patching bockers, and Mrs Grunty, with her spectacles perched right on the tip of her nose, was shaking her paw and saying over and over again:
“He’s a bad lad, that boy of yours — he’ll be the death of us all!”
Snubby was there, too, peeping timidly round the back of the tree. He looked different, though; something was wrong with his face. And, as Blinky dreamed, he had another look at Mrs Grunty and his mother. Oh, how funny they looked! Their noses had turned into ears and their ears into noses. “How dreadful!” whispered Blinky to himself. “I wonder if my nose is a nose still?” And putting up his paw, he woke up to find himself patting that part of his face in a very doubtful manner.
“Hey! you butcher-birds,” he called out, “is my nose still here?”
“Still there!” the big bird replied scornfully, “I should say it was. Who wants to steal that? We don’t hang up noses in our tree!”
“Well, don’t you dare to touch it!” muttered Blinky angrily. “By the way, when is the bazaar?”
“He’s a bad lad that boy of yours — he’ll be the death of us all!”
“Tonight!” the birds replied.
“May I come?” Blinky smiled his sweetest smile.
“You’ll have to take something or do something if you come, there’s no free admittance. Mrs Possum is very strict about that. Last bazaar Percy Bull Ant tried to sneak in by clinging to Mrs Rabbit’s tail and only that he nearly lost his balance and fell off and gave Mrs Rabbit such a nip, he’d have sneaked in. Mrs Rabbit gave a tremendous leap, and let out such a squeal, that of course he was discovered.”
Mrs Rabbit gave a tremendous leap.
“There you are!” cried Blinky excitedly. “Just what I said about tails. Always in the way.”
“Just as well she had a tail or the sting might have been much more serious,” the big bird replied. “What would happen to you I’d like to know, if a bull ant stung you where your tail ought to be? Tails are a great comfort at times.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Blinky quickly answered. “But if Mrs Rabbit hadn’t had a tail Percy Bull Ant might have chosen a gum-leaf to hide him.”
“Not him!” the butcher-bird scoffed. “Why, he even stood up to fight and waved his front legs at Sergeant Hornet when he was ordered to put him out. Such boldness. It caused so much commotion that Mrs Possum fell in the lucky dip and the Rev. Fluffy Ears had to help her out. There she was, covered in sand from head to foot and some impertinent young fellow, who I really believe was Willie Wagtail, called out at the top of his voice: ‘Sweet pretty little creature’. Oh, it was really terrible! And all through Percy Bull Ant trying to get in free!”
“I can’t take anything and I can’t do anything,” said Blinky sorrowfully. “But I could look after the lucky dip for them if they want somebody.”
“That’s a good idea,” said both butcher-birds together. “There’ll have to be someone this time to keep an eye on things, and watch most carefully that Mr Wombat does not burrow under the ‘dip’. He’s a cunning fellow and always has an excuse ready. He walks round and round the refreshment stall, sniffing everything and pretending he doesn’t like the look of juicy leaves; and just as Mrs Wallaby thinks he is quite safe and turns her back to have a chat with some friend, he snatches a mouthful of the very best he can see.”
“Well, that’s settled!” said Blinky gladly. “Now I think I’ll have another sleep. I always feel dozy in the daytime, and this corner is so warm and soft. Be sure you wake me in time for the bazaar.”
own in the gully hidden from view by tall gum-trees, banksias, and tea-trees, right against a huge rock the bazaar was held. Dozens and dozens of birds, insects, and animals, all dressed in their very best, chattering and squeaking, calling and singing, spreading their goods out on the rock, under it, and around it. No little boy or girl could see this wonder show, unless they wandered far off the beaten track, through the tall spear grass, deep, deep in the heart of the bush, away from all noises and people, and far down the valley where the maidenhair fern grows.
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