When Henrietta Hen's callers crowded about her nest in the haymow they expected to see something wonderful. But when they craned their necks and peered into the little hollowed-out snuggery in the hay they couldn't help being disappointed. And when they didn't burst forth1 with cries of surprise and praise Henrietta Hen looked quite unhappy.
"I thought," she said, "you'd want to see this egg. I'm sure you never beheld2 a bigger nor a whiter one than this."
They admitted that the egg was big and that it was very, very white. And if their praise was faint, Henrietta never noticed it.
"Are you going to let Farmer Green have that egg?" one of the company inquired.
"No doubt Johnnie Green will grab it as soon as he finds my nest," said Henrietta with something like a sigh. "If I could only keep this one I wouldn't care how many others he took."
Polly Plymouth Rock turned to old Whitey, a hen who had come with her to the haymow.
"What do you think?" Polly asked. "Is Henrietta in danger of losing this egg that she thinks so much of?"
"She needn't be alarmed," old Whitey answered. "If Johnnie Green robs her of this one, I'll miss my guess."
"Oh! I'm glad to hear you say that!" Henrietta Hen cried. "Now I won't need to worry—that is, if you know what you're talking about."
That, of course, was a most impolite way for Henrietta Hen to speak to anybody of old Whitey's age. Whitey was the oldest hen in the flock. And what she didn't know about such things as nests and eggs and roosts wasn't worth knowing.
Polly Plymouth ............