"It's that trifling, no 'count cousin of mine. He's a Buzzard, or a
Vulture, if yo' like that better, jes' like Ah am, but he belongs to
another branch of the fam'ly. He has a bald haid, jes' like Ah have,
but his haid is black instead of red. That's because his grandpap was
trifling an' po' trash, jes' like he is."

Peter Rabbit pricked up his ears. This sounded like another story. He
was curious about that black-headed cousin of Ol' Mistah Buzzard, very
curious indeed. He wondered if Ol' Mistah Buzzard would have to be
teased for a story, like Grandfather Frog. Anyway, he would find out.
There would be no harm in trying.

"If you please, how does your cousin happen to have a black head?"
asked Peter as politely as he knew how.

"Because his grandpap asked too many questions," replied Ol' Mistah
Buzzard, slyly winking at the others.

Everybody laughed, for everybody knows that no one asks more questions
than Peter Rabbit. Peter laughed with the rest, although he looked a
wee bit foolish. But he didn't mean to give up just because he was
laughed at. Oh, my, no!

"Please, Mr. Buzzard, please tell us the story," he begged.

Now Ol' Mistah Buzzard is naturally good-natured and accommodating,
and when Peter begged so hard, he just couldn't find it in his heart
to refuse. Besides, he rather enjoys telling stories. So he shook his
feathers out, half spread his wings to let the air blow under them,
looked down at all the little meadow and forest people gathered about