"It was so with Mr. Coon. He found that his food tasted better for
being so clean, and he grew very fussy about what he ate. No matter
where he found it or how tempting it looked, he wouldn't eat it until
he had carried it to the nearest water and washed it. He still
remembered the mustard and tried to fool himself into thinking that
he was simply spiting Old Mother Nature, but right down in his heart
he knew that even if he should be told that never again would there be
mustard in his food, he would wash it just the same.
"One day, as he sat beside the Laughing Brook eating his supper, he
noticed that while his food had been washed clean, his hands were
dirty. They spoiled his supper. Yes, Sir, they spoiled his supper.
"'What good does it do to wash my food, if I eat it out of dirty
hands?' said Mr. Coon to himself, and he hurried to a quiet little
pool to give them a good scrubbing. Then he washed his face and
brushed his coat. 'Now I feel better, and I know my supper will taste
better,' said he.
"From that time he began to be particular, very particular, about
keeping himself clean, until finally there was no one on the Green
Meadows or in the Green Forest quite so neat as Mr. Coon.
"Now at this time Mr. Coon had a very plain tail. It was all of one
color, a grayish white, not at all pretty. Mr. Coon used to think a
great deal about that tail and wish and wish that it was handsome.
Sometimes he used to envy Mr. Fox his beautiful red tail with its
black and white tip.
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