Mere, his mother, glared across the table.

Robaire hung his head. He reached for a napkin and daintily dabbed his whiskers.

Mere smiled. "Good, Robaire. When you mind your manners, you'll get along in this world much better."

"All my friends burp and we get along."

"Never mind. You've been taught good manners, use them."

"I'll try to remember," Robaire said. "But I still don't want spongy souffles. I want to eat crunchy carrots like the kids at school."

"Carrots?" Mere said. "You know we French Lops mainly eat spinach, squash, and mushroom souffles. Carrots are found on the farm."

"I don't care. I want to taste a carrot."

"Ask your school friends."

"They won't trade their carrot sandwiches. They say my wild mushroom souffle sandwiches are too puffy."

"Too puffy!" Mere picked up a wire whisk and shook it vigorously. Those egg whites take a lot of beating to make a high, light souffle."

"I know," Robaire said. "But, can I go to the farm to find a carrot?"

"Yes dear, you may go." Mere kissed him on the cheek.

"Yea!" Robaire hopped down and dashed out the door.

"Mind your manners!" Mere called.

Robaire raced through the thicket to the farm.

Inside a pen, Pierre the Pig, nibbled from a feeding trough.

Pierre's soft pink snout searched among the vegetables. He picked the juiciest and carefully chewed it. Robaire pushed Pierre aside. Then, with his long ears dragging, Robaire sniffed from one end of the trough to the other. He couldn't remember the words to ask politely for something. Instead, he said, "Gimmee a carrot."

"Absolutely not," Pierre snorted. "I won't share my veggies with a rude rodent."

Robaire scurried to the barn. Claudette, the Cow, munched alfalfa and carrots from a hay-feeding rack.

"How do you do?" Claudette said.

"I'm doin' terrible and..." Robaire looked in the feeding rack and licked his lips. He couldn't remember the words Mere told him to use.

"Gimmee a carrot," he said again.

"That's no way to ask a favor." Claudette swished her tail. "I've no time for impolite bunnies." She snatched a carrot and with half closed eyes, moved her jaws round and round.

Robaire's stomach gurgled. He wished he'd eaten Mere's airy souffle. He felt a burp coming and couldn't stop it---BURP! Claudette's eyes flew open. "Such manners. Out!"

Robaire hippity-hopped toward the meadow where he found Helene, the Horse, standing under an apple tree.

She whipped her tail up and down, then stamped her hind foot.

Robaire watched a few moments. Curious, he hopped closer and sat among the fallen apples. "What's the matter?" Robaire asked.

"Flies, pesky flies!" Helene shook her neck . Her mane flicked from side to side.

"Maybe I could help you," said Robaire.

Helene's skin rippled. "How?"

"When Mere makes apple souffle, the flies hover around the old apple peelings."

Robaire looked around. "Rotten apples bring flies. Stand under the pine tree by the fence. I'll betcha' there's no flies there."

Helene trotted near the fence and stood calm for a moment. "Yes, what a relief. Thank you."

Robaire stopped short. THANK YOU! That was one of the words Mere taught him. What was the other word? Just then the farmer brought a pail of carrots for Helene. Robaire's heart beat faster than he could hop. Carrots, oh carrots! Lickety split, he hopped, leaped and jumped into the pail. His long ears drooped over the side.

Helene snorted her velvety lips. "Will you PUH-LEEEEZE get out of my carrots!"

Robaire stopped crunching. "That's it!" he hopped down near the pail. "Oh excuse me, Helene. May I please have some carrots?"

"You did me a kindness and because you are such a polite rabbit...help yourself." Helene nodded toward the carrots. "Take a few home."

Robaire hippity-hopped home and gave Mere the carrots. She whipped up a carrot souffle and popped it in the oven. Later, Robaire dabbed his whiskers with a cloth napkin and burped (ever so softly). "Thank you Mere," he said. "Your souffles are good, but carrot souffles are wonderful."

--Sylvia Brich Thompson spent many summers on her grandfather's farm in Nebraska where she helped her grandmother in her vegetable garden and take lemonade to the men in the wheat and corn fields. "I love gardening. We have orange, plum, apricot, nectarine and peach trees. I also have a tomato vine with enough tomatoes to share with my neighbor who in turn shares her figs and lemons. I always say, 'Thank You!'"