A very ordinary sort of story, unsuitably gussied up with ostentatious pictures that carry surreal whimsy to a cloying and jangling extreme. It has to do with a pig in a pen who envies other animals their freedom. On the night before Easter he breaks out, begs an assortment of found junk (a cigar band, a shiny penny, a blue marble) from Crow, and sets off to deposit the junk in children's Easter baskets. Alone, though, he's turned away from the doors, and the Easter rabbit scorns his offer to work together. But finally, ""Following a safe distance after Rabbit, Pig slipped a little gift into each child's basket."" Just how he did is left to readers' imaginations, for the picture on that spread consists of odd, bottle-shaped buildings (one has eyes, mouth, and teeth); strange, troll-like child figures of assorted size-scales, with baskets in hand or in view; and on a still larger scale, an upright pig standing benignly, following no one but trailing a decorative clutch of spring flowers, painted eggs, and odd little rabbits with no evident mission. Hoffman's style might suit a different story, but here the total package comes out dumb, corny, overblown, and distasteful all at once.