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Mrs. Bunny Rabbit peeked inside the chicken run. The hens were huddled together, wearing woollen scarves, and looking very miserable indeed.

“Poor things,” said Mrs. Rabbit. “Is there anything to be done?”

“Forget the hens,” said Easter Rabbit crossly. “Where am I to find eggs at this late date?”

For, every year, Farmer Kishore gave the rabbit a large basket of brown and white eggs. Mrs. Rabbit would dip her magic paintbrush into the pots of paint she carried in her pockets, and before you could say abracadabra, the eggs would become pretty multicoloured things with spots and stripes. Then the Rabbits would deliver them to children on Easter day.

“We could always try the shopping mall, dear,” said Mrs. Rabbit soothingly. “They always sell chocolate eggs for Easter.”

“Humph,” said Mr. Rabbit. “Nothing like the real thing, but I suppose it will have to do. Will the paintbrush work on chocolate eggs, Bunny dear?”

“Of course, it will,” said Mrs. Rabbit. It was a magic paintbrush after all.

So they rabbits hopped down to the nearest mall. It was full of people carrying bags filled near to bursting.

“What a lot of shopping!” said Bunny Rabbit excited.

“What a lot of people!” gasped Easter Rabbit in alarm.

They stopped outside a big store that sold all kinds of things from pots and pans to, ah yes, there is was — the chocolate section.

“You can’t go in there looking like this,” said Bunny wisely. “This is a people’s store. You need a disguise.”

So they popped into a boutique where Mrs. Rabbit bought her husband a bright yellow T-shirt and some sunglasses. And a huge hat to cover his long ears.

“That should do,” she said. “You look like a tourist.”

“I look like a twit,” grumbled Mr. Rabbit.

Here goes, he thought, as he bravely scuttled in. Alas! for by the time Mr. Rabbit dodged laden shoppers and shopping carts, and reached the chocolate section, every shelf was bare.

“Sorry we’re all out,” said the sales girl, staring at Easter Rabbit’s hat, which had become quite lopsided. Was that a ear sticking out from under there?she thought.

“Never mind, we’ll try somewhere else,” said Bunny, when he came out looking bedraggled.

But not a single store had any left, and soon the two rabbits had to stop for a rest.

“Whatever am I going to do?” moaned Eater Rabbit. “I’ve never missed a single Easter. Should I write to Santa and ask him to sent some gifts instead?”

But he never heard his wife’s reply for something landed beside them with a loud thud, making them jump.

“Sorry!” cried a voice from above, and the rabbits looked up to see a man up a coconut tree waving at them. “You’d better get out of the way, I’m harvesting coconuts.”

The rabbits hurriedly moved aside and stared at the huge green coconuts that dropped from the tree. Then Mrs. Rabbit had a marvelous ides. “Why don’t we paint coconuts this year, Easter Rabbit?” she said.

Quick as a whisk of a bunny-tail she pulled out her paints and soon all the coconuts had beautiful patterns on them. Some even had a funny face painted on.

“My coconuts have never looked so good,” said the coconut man in wonder. And, of course, he agreed to give them to Easter Rabbit. “I have far too many this year. Perhaps you could tell people that they can buy more from me?” So off went the happy rabbits, with an extra basket each, because coconuts are much bigger than eggs.

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