“Yesterday,” said the Moon to me, “I looked down into a small yard. There
sat a clucking hen with eleven chicks, and a pretty little girl was
running and jumping around them. The poor hen didn’t know what to make
of it. She screamed and spread out her wings over her brood. The noise
brought the girl’s father out. He scolded his daughter and sent her into
the house. I glided on and thought no more about it.
“But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down into the same
yard. The hen and her chicks had gone to roost. Everything was quiet.
Out came the little girl, crept to the hen-house, pushed back the bolt,
and slipped in. The hen and chicks cried out at once and came fluttering
down from their perches. I saw it all, for I looked through a hole in
the hen-house wall. I was angry with the obstinate child. And so was her
father. He came out and seized her by the arm.
“‘What are you about?’ he asked.
“The little girl wept and sobbed. ‘I wanted to kiss the hen and beg her
pardon for frightening her yesterday, but she does not understand.”
“‘I do now,’ said her father. And he kissed her on the forehead and on
the mouth and on the eyes. ‘You are my own sweet little daughter. The hen
will understand best if you let her alone.’”
—HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN