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" I guess Granddaddy Bullfrog is right," thought Little Jack Rabbit, as he hopped back home to the Old Bramble Patch. "What's the use of worrying about winter? I'll take Granddaddy Bullfrog's advice and leave it all to Mother."

After that he felt much better. Pretty soon he saw Timmy Meadowmouse looking out of his little round house of grass, no larger than a cricket ball, which was fastened to three or four stiff stalks of grass about a foot above the ground.

"Good morning. Do you know, I've been dreadfully worried about winter; but