How many relatives have you, Peter?"
"One," replied Peter promptly, "my big cousin, Jumper the Hare."
Jenny Wren threw back her head and laughed and laughed and laughed.
It was a most irritating and provoking laugh. Finally Peter began
to lose patience. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded crossly.
"You know very well that Jumper the Hare is the only cousin I have."
Jenny Wren laughed harder that ever.
"Peter!" she gasped. "Peter, you will be the death of me. Why,
down in the Sunny South, where I spent the winter, you have a
cousin who is more closely related to you than Jumper the Hare.
And what is more, he is almost as fond of the water as Jerry
Muskrat. He was called the Marsh Rabbit or Marsh Hare, and many a
time I have watched him swimming about by the hour."
"I don't believe it!" declared Peter angrily. "I don't believe a
word of it. You are simply trying to fool me, Jenny Wren. There
never was a Rabbit and there never will be a Rabbit who would go
swimming for the fun of it. I belong to the Cottontail branch of
the Hare family, and it is a fine family if I do say so. My
cousin Jumper is a true Hare, and the only difference between us
is that he is bigger, has longer legs and ears, changes the color
of his coat in winter, and seldom, if ever, goes into holes in
the ground. The idea of trying to tell me I don't know about my
own relatives.
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