The Butter Bear

Now, child, I suppose you'd be wanting to hear the story of the old Butter Bear. That's always been your favorite, hasn't it? Of course it is, and your mother's favorite, and your brother's too. It's everyone's favorite. Let's see if I can remember how it starts, now.

On a crisp October morning little Charlotte sat swinging on her swing. She went up and she went down, and every time she fell through the air her pigtails streamed out behind her. "Whee," she shouted, "whee!" The leaves on the trees were all gold and crimson, and they shimmered in the morning sun. Soon little Charlotte grew bored of just swinging and shouting "whee," and so she decided to sing a little song. You know the song, I'm sure you do. It's a nonsense song, but Charlotte loved it. It goes like this.

Look at all the funny fiddle floppers on the floor!

And look at how the biffle bonks his nose against the door!

Running very quickly comes the cuddly Butter Bear,

Look at how he waddles with the butter in his hair!

And Charlotte went on singing this little song over and over, and swinging and swinging, and the October breeze kept on rushing against her face. And then, in the distance, she heard another voice join in the singing with her. It was a deep voice, a bubbly voice, a voice that squeaked around the edges. It was such a happy voice that Charlotte stopped swinging and started looking around for whoever was singing. It was a few minutes before she saw him come bounding towards her. And do you know who he was? It was the Butter Bear himself, all brown and fat and wobbly with the butter in his hair!

When he finally got to her he stopped, and, taking off his spectacles, peered into Charlotte's face. "I believe you were singing about me?" he asked in that burbling voice. Charlotte looked into his small dark eyes, and she said