A white rabbit ran away from town. He was afraid of the dogs, and the children pulled his ears. He found it was better to live among the animals in the woods, but he did not like to say so to them. He was always telling of the fine things he had left. The wild rabbit is gray. The white rabbit said no one wore gray in town. The best people had white clothes and very fine; that was why his fur was so soft and like the snow. “Ours was the best family in town,” the white rabbit would say very often. The marten is small and brown. His fur is worn by the best people, and he knows they think much of him. He could not understand why the white rabbit should think himself any better than a marten. He met the white rabbit in the woods one day. They had a long talk, and the rabbit invited him to come to his heap of little dry bushes and eat dinner with him. He would answer any questions the marten would ask, because those who come out of a town always know a great deal. It is kind to tell what you know. The marten was seen by the gray rabbits to brush his fur and wash his face and paws very carefully. They watched him go into the white rabbit’s brush heap. The gray rabbits put their ears very far back and ran away. “The marten is wise, but he will know more when he comes home,” said the ones in gray. The marten ate with the white rabbit. He thought they ate too fast, but it was not polite to say so. He tried to eat like the rabbit and watched his mouth. After a time the marten began his questions. “What makes the slit in your lip?” asked the visitor. “My family in town all ate with knives and forks. My knife slipped and cut my lip,” was the answer. “What makes you keep moving your mouth and whiskers?” “Because I am always planning and worrying. My family always worried. We do not think enough about what might happen out here in the country. Perhaps a great fire might come and burn up all these trees; perhaps the river may come and drown us. The birds make us forget these things. We are too happy.” The marten shook his head, but he said some grass had touched his nose. He did not want the rabbit to think him different from town people. The two went out to walk under the trees. “What makes you hop?” asked the marten. “My family always hop. People in town never step along like country people. See how well I look and how clumsy that moose cow is over there.” Just then they heard a soft step on the brown pine needles; the marten flattened himself down on the ground, and his brown fur could not be seen. The white rabbit ran away with great jumps. He hid in the bushes. The two animals met again that day. “Why did you run so fast?” asked the marten. “I used to run races when I was in town. The boys and the dogs all played with me. Every one goes fast when in town. I forgot how slow the country people are.” The marten walked and ran by the rabbit’s side. “Why is it that your tail is so short and your ears are so long?” he asked.