"Little Jack Rabbit! " said his mother, the next morning, "run down to the post office and see if there's a letter for me. " So the little rabbit put on his khaki cap and his little knapsack and started off, and by and by, after a while, he came to Rabbitville, where the post office stood on the corner of Pumpkin Place and Corn Cob Lane.
"Is there a letter for Mrs. John Rabbit, Old Bramble Patch, Rail Fence Corner, U. S. A.? " he asked the lady postmistress, an old maid grasshopper who worked for Uncle Sam in the winter and in the summer played in the wheat field.
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