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Informationen zum Autor Tor Seidler is the critically acclaimed and bestselling author of more than a dozen children’s books! including Firstborn ! The Wainscott Weasel ! A Rat’s Tale ! The Steadfast Tin Soldier ! Gully’s Travel s! and most notably Mean Margaret ! which was a National Book Award Finalist. He lives in New York! New York. Fred Marcellino! the renowned and beloved artist and illustrator! won a Caldecott Honor for his first full-color picture book! Puss in Boots . He began his career in children’s literature with Tor Seidler’s A Rat’s Tale in 1985! and followed with many other classics such as I! Crocodile and The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Wainscott Weasel THE WAINSCOTT WOODS Most weasels have to devote nearly all their waking hours to hunting—but not in Wainscott. In Wainscott, weasels are blessed with free time. During the winter these lucky creatures take a lot of long naps. Once the weather warms up, they dance. Wainscott used to be about the sleepiest spot on the South Fork of Long Island. A few farms, some woods, and the beach—that was it. But thanks to what human beings call “development,” the farms have been shrinking, their fields gobbled up by summer houses. The woods have shrunk, too, for the same reason. Still, the Wainscott woods haven’t disappeared completely. And tucked away in the middle of the scrub oaks there remains a fine old stand of pines. These pines are forever shedding their needles, and the needles make the ground an excellent dance floor: slick as can be, perfect for sliding and gliding. Since dancing is ridiculous without music, the weasels’ dance season didn’t usually start till May, when the songbirds fly in from the south. But one year the warm weather and the birds arrived a month early. So the weasels were able to have their First Spring Cotillion in April. After a winter without dancing, the first cotillion was always an irresistible event, and this year, as usual, weasels from the newer Wainscott families arrived under the pines early, before four o’clock. They squealed happily along with the birds, pounding the needles with their paws. Weasels from the older families arrived later and stood around talking quietly among themselves. But even they couldn’t keep their eyes from shining and their tails from twitching. Of all the weasels under the pines on that warm April afternoon, the noisiest and most rambunctious were probably the five Whitebelly brothers. The Whitebellys were strapping young weasels with blazing white underbellies. The oldest, and strappingest, was Zeke. Zeke was the best dancer, too. In fact, he tended to be a bit of a showoff. If there was a lull in the music, for example, he would do a back flip. But he could twirl a pretty young weasel till her head spun. The two weasels Zeke had most enjoyed twirling last season were both, it so happened, at the First Spring Cotillion. This was nice, in a way, but in another way it made Zeke’s life complicated. Dancing with Sally Spots was fun, but while he was out on the needles with her it was hard not to notice the scowl on Mary Lou Silverface’s pale, pretty face. And as soon as he switched to Mary Lou, Sally crossed her forepaws and marched away. After a while Zeke excused himself from Mary Lou and joined his brothers at the edge of the needles. “Benny boy,” he said. “Be a pal and ask Sally to dance, will you?” “Sure thing, Zeke” said Ben, the secondoldest Whitebelly. “Where is she?” “I think she’s over behind—” Behind the big stump, Zeke was about to say, but his jaw had dropped. Seated on a root of the stump were the Blackishes, one of the grandest weasel couples in Wainscott. Standing beside them was a...
