their numbers. It's easier to number them than name them."

"Oh, indeed?" asked Uncle Wiggily, as politely as he could, considering
everything. "And so you won't take me until I pull this sassafras
root?"

"No, I'll wait until you have finished," spoke the fox. "I like you
better, anyhow, flavored with sassafras. So pull away."

Uncle Wiggily tried to pull up the root, but he did not pull very hard.

"For," he thought, "as soon as I pull it up then the fox will take me,
but if I don't pull it he may not."

"What's the matter? Can't you get that root up?" asked the fox, after
a while. "I can't wait all day."

"Then perhaps you will kindly pull it up for me," said the bunny uncle.
"I can't seem to do it."

"All right, I will," the fox said. Uncle Wiggily hopped to one side.
The fox put his paws under the sassafras root. And he pulled and he
pulled and he pulled, and finally, with a double extra strong pull, he
pulled up the root. But it came up so suddenly, just as when you break
the point off your pencil, that the fox keeled over backward in a
peppersault and somersault also.

"Oh, wow!" cried the fox, as he bumped his nose. "What happened?" But
Uncle Wiggily did not stay to tell. Away ran the bunny through the
woods, as fast as he could go, forgetting all about his Spring fever.