occurred to break the silence of the henhouse. And Henrietta would dream
only of pleasant things, such as cracked corn, or crisp cabbage-leaves,
or bone meal. After dreams of that sort Henrietta couldn't always be
sure, when the Rooster waked her with his crowing, that she hadn't
already breakfasted. But she would peck at her breakfast, when feeding
time came, and if it tasted good she would know then that the other food
had been nothing but a dream.
One night, soon after she had gone back to roost in the henhouse, it
seemed to Henrietta that she had scarcely fallen asleep when the Rooster
crowed.
She awoke with a start.
"Goodness!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I must have slept soundly,
for I haven't dreamed a single dream all night long." Then she noticed
that none of the other hens had stirred. "Lazy bones!" Henrietta remarked
to the Rooster. "You won't get 'em up in a hurry. They, don't hear you at
all."
To her surprise she received no answer.
"He couldn't have heard me," she said to herself. So she repeated her
speech in a louder tone. And still the Rooster made no reply. Henrietta
couldn't understand it, he was always so polite to the ladies. Could it
be that he was snubbing her?
Henrietta grew a bit angry as that thought popped into her head.
"What's the matter?" she snapped. "Have you lost your voice? It was loud
enough to wake me up a few moments ago."
Receiving no response whatsoever, Henrietta completely lost her temper.
"I'll see what's wrong with you!" she cackled. And throwing herself off
her roost, though it was dark as a pocket in the henhouse, she flung
herself upon the perch just opposite, where she knew the Rooster had
slept.
It was no wonder that Henrietta Hen blundered in the dark. It was no
wonder that she missed her way and stumbled squarely into the Rooster,
knocking him headlong on the floor.
He set up a terrible clamor. And he made Henrietta Hen angrier than ever,
for he cried out in a loud voice something that would have displeased
anybody. "A skunk is after me!" he bawled.
XVII
A SIGN OF RAIN
There was a terrible hubbub in the henhouse. The Rooster squalled so
loudly that he waked up every hen in the place. And when they heard him
crying that a skunk had knocked him off his roost they were as frightened
as he was, and set up a wild cackle. All but Henrietta Hen! She knew
there was no skunk there.
"Don't be a goose--er--don't be a gander!" she hissed to the Rooster.
"I'm the one that bumped into you."
The Rooster quickly came to his senses.
"Don't be alarmed, ladies!" he called to the flock. "There's no danger.
There's been a slight mistake." He pretended that he hadn't been scared.
But he had been. And now he was somewhat uneasy about Henrietta Hen. He
feared he was in for a scolding from her.
"If you had answered me when I spoke to you I wouldn't have left my perch
in the dark," she told the Rooster severely. "When I moved to your perch
to see what was the matter I blundered into you. And then you thought I
was a skunk! You owe me an apology, sir!"
The Rooster was glad it was not lighter in the henhouse, for he felt
himself flushing hotly.
"You must pardon me," he said. "I had no idea it was you, for you waked
me out of a sound sleep."
"Sound sleep, indeed!" Henrietta Hen exclaimed with a sniff. "Why, you
had been crowing only a few moments before. In fact it was your crowing
that roused me."
"No doubt!" said the Rooster. "But you see, I fell asleep again
immediately."
"Then you must be ill," Henrietta retorted, "for I've never known you to
go to sleep again, once you've begun your morning's crowing."
"But it's not morning now," the Rooster informed her. "It's not even late
at night--certainly not an hour since sunset."
Henrietta Hen was astonished.
"I noticed that the night seemed short," she muttered.
The Rooster thought it a great joke.
"Ha! ha!" he laughed. And he said to the rest of the flock, with a
chuckle, "Henrietta thought it was morning! No doubt she'd have gone out
into the yard if the door hadn't been shut." And the other hens all
tittered. They always did, if the rooster expected them to.
Well, if there was one thing that Henrietta Hen couldn't endure, it was
to be laughed at.
"Don't be silly!" she cried. "Why shouldn't I think it was morning, when
he crowed almost in my ear?"
"Don't you know why I crowed?" the Rooster asked her. And without waiting
for any reply, he said, "I crowed to let Farmer Green know it was going
to rain to-morrow."
Of course Henrietta Hen had to have the last word. The Rooster might have
known she would.
"Then," she observed, "I suppose you squawked to let him know there was a
skunk in the henhouse."
XVIII
IN NEED OF ADVICE
Something was troubling Henrietta Hen. She seemed to have some secret
sorrow. No longer did she move with her well-known queenly manner among
her neighbors in the farmyard. Instead, she spent a good deal of her time
moping. And no one could guess the reason. She didn't even care to talk
to anybody--not even to boast about her fine, speckled coat. And that
certainly was not in the least like Henrietta Hen.
Always, before, Henrietta had seized every chance to parade before the
public. Now she seemed to crave privacy.
What was the matter? To tell the truth, Henrietta Hen herself did not
know the answer to that question. That is to say, she did not know _why_
a certain thing was so. She only knew that a great misfortune had
befallen her. And she dreaded to tell anybody about it.
To be sure, there was old Whitey--a hen who had lived on the farm longer
than any other. Most members of the flock often asked her advice. Even
Henrietta herself had done that. But this difficulty was something she
didn't want to mention to a neighbor. If there were only somebody outside
the flock to whom she could go for help! But she knew of no one.
Then Henrietta happened to hear of Aunt Polly Woodchuck. The Muley Cow,
who went to the pasture every day, mentioned Aunt Polly's name to
Henrietta. According to the Muley Cow, Aunt Polly Woodchuck was an herb
doctor--and a good one, too. No matter what might be troubling a person,
Aunt Polly was sure to have something right in her basket to cure it.
"I'd like to see her," Henrietta Hen had said. "But I can't go way up in
the pasture, under the hill."
"Could you go to the end of the lane?" the Muley Cow inquired.
"Yes!"
"Then I'll ask Aunt Polly Woodchuck to meet you by the bars to-morrow
morning," the Muley Cow promised.
That suited Henrietta Hen.
"I'll be there--if it doesn't rain," she agreed.
Early the next day she followed the cows through the lane. And she hadn't
waited long at the bars when Aunt Polly Woodchuck came hobbling up to
her. Being a very old lady, Aunt Polly was somewhat lame. But she was
spry, for all that. And her eyes were as bright as buttons.
Henrietta Hen saw at once that Aunt Polly was hopelessly old-fashioned.
She carried a basket on her arm, and a stick in her hand.
"Well, well, dearie! Here you are!" cried Aunt Polly Woodchuck. "The
Muley Cow tells me you're feeling poorly. Do tell me all about yourself!
No doubt I've something in my basket that will do you a world of good."
[Illustration: "Don't Worry!" Said Aunt Polly Woodchuck. (_Page 91_)]
XIX
AUNT POLLY HELPS
Somehow Henrietta Hen couldn't help liking Aunt Polly Woodchuck, in spite
of her old-fashioned appearance. She certainly had a way with her--a way
that made a person _want_ to tell her his troubles.
"I don't know whether you can help me or not," said Henrietta Hen. "Have
you any feathers in your basket?"
"No--no! No feathers!" Aunt Polly replied. "I use herbs in my business of
doctoring. But I've heard that a burnt feather held under a body's nose
will do wonders sometimes.... I must always carry a feather in my basket,
hereafter."
"_One_ feather wouldn't do me any good," said Henrietta Hen with a
doleful sigh. "I need a great many more than one."
"You do?" Aunt Polly cried.
"Yes!" Henrietta answered. "Half my feathers have dropped off me. And
that's why I've come to ask your advice. I'm fast losing my fatal
beauty."
Henrietta Hen's voice trembled as she told Aunt Polly Woodchuck the
dreadful news. "I don't believe you'll be able to help me," she quavered.
"I'll soon look like a perfect fright. Besides, winter's coming; and how
I'll ever keep warm with no feathers is more than I know."
Henrietta Hen couldn't understand how Aunt Polly managed to stay so calm.
Henrietta had expected her to throw up her hands and say something like
"Sakes alive!" or "Mercy on us!" But the old lady did nothing of the
sort.
She set her basket down on the ground; and pushing her spectacles forward
to the end of her nose, she leaned over and looked closely at Henrietta
Hen. Aunt Polly's gaze travelled over Henrietta from head to foot and
then back again. And she took hold of one of Henrietta's feathers and
gave it a gentle twitch.
"Look out!" Henrietta cried. "You'll pull it out if you're not careful.
And I can't afford to lose any more feathers than I have to."
"Don't worry!" Aunt Polly Woodchuck advised her. "Cheer up! There's
nothing the matter with you. You are molting. You are going to get a new
outfit of feathers for winter. Your old ones have to fall out in order to
make room for the new. And no doubt the fresh ones will be much handsomer
than the old."
Henrietta couldn't believe that Aunt Polly knew what she was talking
about.
"I can't be molting as early in the fall as this," she protested. "I've
never got my winter feathers so soon.... I fear you're mistaken," she
told Aunt Polly.
"Oh, no! I'm not mistaken," Aunt Polly Woodchuck insisted. "I know it's
early for molting--but haven't you noticed that the wheat grew big this
year, and that the bark on young trees is thick? And haven't you observed
that Frisky Squirrel is laying up a great store of nuts in his hollow
tree, and that the hornets built their paper houses far from the ground
this summer?"
Henrietta Hen's mouth fell open as she stared at Aunt Polly Woodchuck.
And when the old lady paused, Henrietta looked quite bewildered.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured. "I don't see what
all this has to do with molting."
"Some of those signs," Aunt Polly explained, "mean an early winter; and
some of 'em mean a cold one. I've never known 'em to fail. And you're
molting early so you'll have a good warm coat of feathers by the time
winter comes."
Well, Henrietta Hen began to feel better at once. She actually
smiled--something she had not done for days.
"Thank you! Thank you!" she said. "You're a fine doctor, Aunt Polly. I
don't wonder that folks ask your advice--especially when there's nothing
the matter with them!"
And then Henrietta Hen hurried off down the lane. Being timid about
hawks, she never felt quite comfortable far from the farmyard.
XX
A GREAT FLURRY
There was a great flurry among Farmer Green's hens. They all insisted on
talking at the same time, because they had heard an astonishing bit of
news. It was about Henrietta Hen. Wherever she went her neighbors craned
their necks at her, just as if they hadn't seen her every day for as long
as they could remember.
Henrietta Hen enjoyed the notice that everybody took of her. She went to
some trouble to move about a good deal, so that all might have a chance
to stare at her. For if there was one thing she liked, it was attention.
There was a reason why Henrietta had suddenly become the most talked-of
member of the flock. She was going to the county fair! Furthermore, she
expected to take all her children with her. There wasn't the least doubt
that it was all true. The whole flock had heard Johnnie Green and his
father talking about it.
Of course everybody asked Henrietta Hen a great number of questions. When
was she going to leave? How long did she expect to stay at the fair? What
did she intend to do there? Would she wear her best clothes if it rained?
There was no end to such inquiries.
Unfortunately, Henrietta Hen could answer very few of them. Never having
visited a fair, she had no idea what a fair was like. She only guessed
that when the time came, she and her family would be put into a pen,
loaded upon a wagon, and jolted over the road that led to the fair,
wherever it might be.
But Henrietta didn't intend to let her neighbors find out how little she
knew about fairs. She said that before starting she expected to wait for
the wagon, that she hoped to stay at the fair as long as it lasted
(because she didn't want to miss anything!) and that she intended to come
home when the wagon brought her. Furthermore, she planned to wear her
best apron, anyhow, because there was sure to be fair weather at a fair!
How could it be otherwise?
Old Ebenezer, the horse, told her to be sure to see the races.
"They're the best part of a fair," he said. "In my younger days I used to
take part in them." And then he added, "There's nothing else at a fair
that's worth looking at."
"What about the poultry show?" Henrietta Hen asked him. She didn't know
what poultry shows were; but she had heard Farmer Green mention them.
"I never paid any attention to the poultry exhibit," the horse Ebenezer
replied. "I never took part in that. I suppose it might interest you,
however."
Henrietta Hen smiled a knowing sort of smile. And she remarked to Polly
Plymouth Rock, who stood near her, that she didn't believe the old horse
knew a race from a poultry show. "If he ever went to a fair, I dare say
he was hitched outside the fence," she sniffed.
Polly Plymouth Rock cackled with amusement. And she said something that
displeased Henrietta Hen exceedingly.
"Are you going to take that duckling that you hatched out?" she asked.
"Certainly not!" Henrietta snapped. "Please--Miss Plymouth Rock--never
mention him again! I'm going to the fair, among strangers. And I
shouldn't care to have them know about that accident that happened to
me--not for anything!"
XXI
OFF FOR THE FAIR
It seemed to Henrietta Hen that the time for the fair would never come.
She had begun to feel somewhat uneasy, because she had talked so much
about visiting the fair with her children that it would be very awkward
if she didn't go. So she was delighted one day by the noise of hammering
and sawing that came from the workbench at the end of the wagon-shed. A
merry noise it was, to Henrietta's ears; for she guessed at once what was
happening. Farmer Green and his son were building a pen in which she and
her family were to ride to the fair!
The news spread like fire in sun-dried grass. Henrietta Hen took pains
that it should. She told everybody she saw that she expected to leave at
any moment. And she began to say good-by to all her friends.
Since Henrietta didn't start for the fair that day, before nightfall she
had bade every one farewell at least a dozen times. And when, the
following dawn, Henrietta started the day not by saying "Good morning!"
but by bidding her neighbors "Good-by!" once more, they began to think
her a bit tiresome.
"What! Haven't you gone yet?" they asked her.
"No! But I expect to leave at any moment," Henrietta told them. She was
so excited that she couldn't eat her breakfast. But her chicks had no
such trouble. And perhaps it was just as well that Henrietta Hen had her
hands full looking after them and trying to keep them all under her eye,
and spick-and-span for the journey. Otherwise she would have been in more
of a flutter than she was.
While Henrietta had an eye on her children, she tried to keep the other
on the barn. And after what seemed to her hours of watching and waiting,
she saw Johnnie Green lead the old horse Ebenezer out of the door, with
his harness on. Henrietta promptly forgot her stately manners. She ran
squalling across the farmyard and called to Ebenezer, "Where are you
going?"
"I understand that I'm going to the fair," he told her, as Johnnie Green
backed him between the thills of a wagon. "Once I would have been hitched
to a light buggy, with a sulky tied behind it. But now I've got to take
you and your family in this rattlety old contraption."
Henrietta Hen didn't wait to hear any more. She turned and hurried back,
to gather her youngsters and bid everybody another farewell.
Amid a great clucking and squawking, Johnnie Green and his father put
Henrietta and her chicks into the pen and placed it in the back of the
wagon.
"We're all ready!" Henrietta cried to Ebenezer. The old horse didn't even
turn his head, for he could see backwards as well as forwards, because he
wore no blinders. He made no direct reply to Henrietta, though he gave a
sort of grunt, as if the whole affair did not please him. He knew that it
was a long distance to the fairgrounds and the road was hilly.
"_She_ thinks it a lark," he said to the dog Spot, who hung about as if
he were waiting for something. "She's lucky, for she won't have to go on
her own legs, for miles and miles."
"That's just what I intend to do," Spot informed him. "They don't mean to
take me. But I'm going to follow you, right under the wagon, where
Johnnie Green and his father can't see me."
So they started off. And they had scarcely passed through the gate when
Henrietta began to clamor in her shrillest tones. But nobody paid any
heed to her. The wagon clattered off down the road. And old dog Spot
smiled to himself as he trotted along beneath it.
"Henrietta just remembered that she forgot to put on her best apron," he
chuckled.
XXII
ALMOST HOMESICK
Never in all her life had Henrietta Hen seen so many hens and roosters
and chicks as she found on every side of her, at the fair. Farmer Green
and his son Johnnie had set her pen in the Poultry Hall. And to
Henrietta's surprise, none of her new neighbors paid much attention to
her and her chicks--at first. She soon decided that there was a reason
for this neglect. She made up her mind that she would have to make
herself heard amid all that uproar or the others would never know she had
arrived.
Luckily Henrietta had a strong voice. She used it to the utmost. And it
wasn't long before a huge hen in a pen next hers gave her a bold look and
asked, "What are you here for?"
"I've come to get the first prize," Henrietta answered calmly. She had
listened carefully to what Farmer Green and Johnnie had said to each
other during the journey from the farm. And already she knew something
about fairs.
Her new neighbor laughed right in Henrietta's face.
"I don't see how you can win the first prize," she said with a sniff.
"I'm going to get the first prize myself. There never was another such
fine family as mine." She glanced proudly at her chicks as she spoke.
"The best you can hope for," she told Henrietta, "is the second prize.
And you'll be lucky if you get the third."
For once Henrietta Hen was at a loss for a retort.
"I don't believe you've ever been at a fair before," her new neighbor
observed.
Henrietta admitted faintly that she hadn't.
"Last year I won second prize," said the other. "I'd have had the first
if the judges had known their business."
Henrietta Hen began to feel very shaky in her legs. She had expected a
different sort of greeting, when she should arrive at the fair. She had
thought everybody would exclaim, "Here comes Henrietta Hen! What a fine
family of chicks she has! And aren't Mrs. Hen's speckles beautiful?"
And there she was, with nobody paying any heed to her, except the lofty
dame in the next pen, who had said nothing very agreeable.
"Oh, dear!" Henrietta sighed. "I wish I'd never left home."
"What's that?" her neighbor inquired in a sharp tone. "You aren't
homesick, are you?"
"N-no!" said Henrietta. "But I had expected to win the first prize. And I
don't know what my friends will say when I come back home without it."
"Well, everybody can't win it," said her new acquaintance. "Not the same
year, anyhow!" And then she looked Henrietta up and down for a few
moments, while Henrietta squirmed uneasily. "Where do you come from?" she
asked at last.
"I live on Farmer Green's place, in Pleasant Valley," Henrietta informed
her.
The lady in the next pen shook her head. "I've never heard of Pleasant
Valley," she remarked, "nor of Farmer Green. He must be small potatoes."
Well, Henrietta was astonished. She began to feel as if she were nobody
at all. She had supposed that everybody knew of Pleasant Valley--and of
Farmer Green, too. As for the remark, "small potatoes," she didn't
understand it at all. So she inquired what it meant.
"It means," said her neighbor, "that Farmer Green can't be of much
account."
That speech made Henrietta Hen almost lose her temper.
"Mr. Green," she cried, "is a fine man. And I'll have you know that I
wouldn't live anywhere but on his farm!"
XXIII
GETTING ACQUAINTED
Not liking her neighbor on her right, at the fair, Henrietta Hen sidled
up to the wire netting on the opposite side of her pen. Peering through
it, she examined the person whom she saw just beyond, in a pen of her
own.
A very sleek hen was this, who gave Henrietta a slight nod.
"We may as well speak," she said, "since we're to live next to each other
for a week."
"A week!" Henrietta groaned. "Shall I have to stay cooped up here as long
as that?"
"Yes!" said Neighbor Number 2. "And I don't blame you for feeling as you
seem to. A week is a long time for everybody here--except me."
Henrietta Hen didn't understand her.
"I'm going to win the first prize--with my chicks," Neighbor Number 2
announced. "Of course _that's_ worth waiting here a week."
"I don't see how _you_ can win the first prize!" Henrietta exclaimed.
"Why not?" demanded the other. And she pressed against the wire netting
of her pen and stuck her head through it as far as she could, as if she
would have pecked Henrietta had she been able to.
"Because--" Henrietta explained--"because the lady on the other side of
me is going to win it."
"Who said so?"
"She did," Henrietta answered.
"Ha! ha!" cackled Neighbor Number 2. "That's a good joke. She hasn't any
more chance of winning than--than _you_ have!"
Now, Henrietta Hen couldn't help being puzzled. But whoever might win the
first prize, she was sure it couldn't be she. Hadn't her neighbors on
either side of her the same as told her that she couldn't win?
Henrietta would have felt quite glum, except that she couldn't very well
mope in the midst of the terrific racket all about her. Soon her
neighbors--both Number 1 and Number 2--were having loud disputes with the
hens in the pens on the further side of them. It seemed as if every hen
at the fair had left her manners at home--if she ever had any.
"Goodness!" Henrietta Hen murmured to herself. "If there's a prize, it
must be for the one that can make the most noise."
In a little while throngs of men, women and children crowded into the
Poultry Hall. They paused before the pens and looked at the occupants,
making remarks that were sometimes full of praise and sometimes
slighting.
Henrietta Hen felt terribly uneasy when people began to stop and stare at
her. She dreaded to hear what they would say. After the way her next-door
neighbors had talked to her she didn't believe anybody would have a word
of praise for her.
She soon heard all sorts of remarks about herself. Some said she was too
little and some said she was too big; others exclaimed that her legs were
too short, while still others declared that they were too long! As
these--and many similar--comments fell upon Henrietta's ears she promptly
decided that there wasn't anything about her that was as it should be.
Having always called herself (before she left home) a "speckled beauty,"
she began to feel very low in her mind. And there was only one thing that
kept her from being downright sad. All the sightseers agreed that she had
some pretty chicks.
Henrietta couldn't help wishing that they had a different mother--one
that was worthy of them.
XXIV
WINNING FIRST PRIZE
Henrietta Hen was waiting as patiently as she could for the fair to come
to an end. She tried to close her ears to the boasts of her neighbors on
either side of her, that they were going to win the first prize. She had
heard too many unpleasant remarks about herself to have even the
slightest hope of winning any prize at all--let alone the first.
"Anyhow, we'll be going home tonight," Henrietta said to herself. "And
I'll never, never, never come to another fair. I'll go and hide 'way up
high in the haymow where they can't find me before I'll spend another
week in a place like this."
While she was muttering under her breath like that some men came up to
her pen. And Henrietta Hen promptly squatted down in the furthest corner
of it, hoping they wouldn't say anything disagreeable about her. She felt
that she had already heard about all she could stand. She didn't even
look at her callers. And soon they moved away.
Then Henrietta glanced up. She noticed something blue dangling from the
front of her pen. And there was a greater commotion than ever on all
sides of her.