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_SLUMBER-TOWN TALES__(Trademark Registered)_
THE TALE OFHENRIETTA HEN
BYARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of"SLEEPY-TIME TALES"(Trademark Registered)"TUCK-ME-IN TALES"(Trademark Registered)
ILLUSTRATED BYHARRY L. SMITH
NEW YORKGROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
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Copyright, 1921, ByGROSSET & DUNLAP
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Henrietta Hen is Afraid the Duck Will Drown. (_Page 14_)]
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I A SPECKLED BEAUTY 1 II A FINE FAMILY 6 III WET FEET 11 IV A SWIMMER 15 V CAUGHT BY MR. CROW 20 VI HENRIETTA COMPLAINS 26 VII WARNING THE ROOSTER 31 VIII WHY THE ROOSTER CROWED 36 IX HAUGHTY HENRIETTA 41 X THE BIG, WHITE EGG 46 XII PLAYING TRICKS 55 XIII TWO IN A GARDEN 59 XIV EARS--SHORT OR LONG 64 XV HENRIETTA'S FRIGHT 70 XVI THE ROOSTER UPSET 76 XVII A SIGN OF RAIN 81 XVIII IN NEED OF ADVICE 85 XIX AUNT POLLY HELPS 89 XX A GREAT FLURRY 94 XXI OFF FOR THE FAIR 99 XXII ALMOST HOMESICK 104 XXIII GETTING ACQUAINTED 109 XXIV WINNING FIRST PRIZE 114
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ILLUSTRATIONS
Henrietta Hen is Afraid the Duck Will Drown. (_Page 14_) Frontispiece"Come Up to My Nest!" Cried Henrietta Hen. (_Page 50_) 51Henrietta Hen Scolds Jimmy Rabbit. (_Page 62_) 62"Don't Worry!" Said Aunt Polly Woodchuck. (_Page 91_) 89
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THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN
I
A SPECKLED BEAUTY
Henrietta Hen thought highly of herself. Not only did she considerherself a "speckled beauty" (to use her own words) but she had anexcellent opinion of her own ways, her own ideas--even of her ownbelongings. When she pulled a fat worm--or a grub--out of the ground shedid it with an air of pride; and she was almost sure to say, "There! I'dlike to see anybody else find a bigger one than that!"
Of course, it wouldn't really have pleased her at all to have one of herneighbors do better than she did. That was only her way of boasting thatno one could beat her.
If any one happened to mention speckles Henrietta Hen was certain tospeak of her own, claiming that they were the handsomest and most specklyto be found in Pleasant Valley. And if a person chanced to say anythingabout combs, Henrietta never failed to announce that hers was the reddestand most beautiful in the whole world.
Nobody could ever find out how she knew that. She had never been off thefarm. But it was useless to remind her that she had never travelled. Sucha remark only made her angry.
Having such a good opinion of herself, Henrietta Hen always had a greatdeal to talk about. She kept up a constant cluck from dawn till dusk. Itmade no difference to her whether she happened to be alone, or withfriends. She talked just the same--though naturally she preferred to haveothers hear what she said, because she considered her remarks mostimportant.
There were times when Henrietta Hen took pains that all her neighborsshould hear her. She was never so proud as when she had a newly-laid eggto exhibit. Then an ordinary cluck was not loud enough to express herfeelings. To announce such important news Henrietta Hen never failed toraise her voice in a high-pitched "Cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut!" Thisinteresting speech she always repeated several times. For she wantedeverybody to know that Henrietta Hen had laid another of her famous eggs.
After such an event she always went about asking people if they had heardthe news--just as if they could have _helped_ hearing her silly racket!
Now, it sometimes happened, when she was on such an errand, thatHenrietta Hen met with snubs. Now and then her question--"Have you heardthe news?"--brought some such sallies as these: "Polly Plymouth Rock hasjust laid an _enormous_ egg! Have you seen it?" Or maybe, "Don't bedisappointed, Henrietta! Somebody has to lay the littlest ones!"
Such jibes were certain to make Henrietta Hen lose her temper. And shewould talk very fast (and, alas! very loud, too) about jealous neighborsand how unpleasant it was to live among folk that were so stingy of theirpraise that they couldn't say a good word for the finest eggs that everwere seen! On such occasions Henrietta Hen generally talked in a loftyway about moving to the village to live.
"They think enough of my eggs down there," she would boast. "Boiled,fried, poached, scrambled, or for an omelette--my eggs can't be beaten."
"If the villagers can't beat your eggs they certainly can't use them foromelettes," Polly Plymouth Rock told Henrietta one day. "Everybody knowsyou have to beat eggs to make an omelette."
Henrietta Hen didn't know what to say to that. It was almost the onlytime she was ever known to be silent.
II
A FINE FAMILY
Henrietta Hen's neighbors paid little attention to her boasting, becausethey had to listen to it so often. At last, however, there came a daywhen she set up such a cackling as they had never heard from her before.She kept calling out at the top of her lungs, "Come-come-come!See-what-I've-got! Come-come-come! See-what-I've-got!" And she acted evenmore important than ever, until her friends began to say to one another,"What _can_ Henrietta be so proud about? If it's only another egg, she'smaking a terrible fuss about it."
They decided at last that if they were to have any peace they'd better goand look at whatever it was that Henrietta Hen was squawking about. Sothey went--in a body--to the place where she had her nest, in the haymow.
When Henrietta caught sight of her visitors she set up a greater clamorthan ever.
"Well, well!" cried the oldest of the party, a rather sharp-tongued damewith white feathers. "What's all this hubbub about?" And then theylearned what it was that Henrietta wanted them to see.
"Did you ever set eyes on such a fine family?" she demanded as shestepped aside from her nest and let them peer into it.
"A brood of chicks--eh?" said the lady in white. "Well, what's all thenoise about?"
Henrietta Hen turned her back on her questioner.
"I knew you'd all want to have a look at these prize youngsters," shesaid to the rest of the company. "You'll agree with me, of course, thatthere were never any other chicks as handsome as these."
Henrietta's neighbors all crowded up to gaze upon the soft balls of down.
"This is the first family you've hatched, isn't it?" Polly Plymouth Rockinquired.
Henrietta Hen said that it was her first brood.
Her neighbors wanted to be pleasant. So they told her that her childrenwere as fine youngsters as anybody could ask for. And the old white dame,squinting at the nestlings, said to Henrietta:
"They're the finest you've ever had.... But there's one of them that hasa queer look."
All the other visitors tried to hush her up. They didn't want to hurtHenrietta Hen's feelings. It was her first brood of chicks; and theycould forgive her for thinking them the be
st in the whole world. So whenthey saw that old Whitey intended to be disagreeable they began to clucktheir approval of the youngsters, hoping that Henrietta wouldn't noticewhat Whitey said.
Nor did she. Henrietta Hen was altogether too pleased with herself andher new family to pay much attention to anybody else's remarks.
"I hope," said Henrietta, "that you'll all come to see my family often.As the youngsters grow, I'm sure they'll get handsomer every day."
The neighbors thanked her. And crowding about old Whitey they moved away.Old Whitey just had to go too. She couldn't help spluttering a little.
"What a vain, empty-headed creature Henrietta Hen is!" she exclaimed."She doesn't know that one of her brood is nothing but a duckling!"
III
WET FEET
Somehow Henrietta Hen never noticed that one of her brood was differentfrom the rest. They were her first youngsters and they all lookedbeautiful to her.
Just as soon as Henrietta began to take her children for strolls aboutthe farmyard she taught them a number of things. She showed them how toscratch in the dirt for food, how to drink by raising their heads andletting the water trickle down their throats. She bade them beware ofhawks--and of Miss Kitty Cat, too. And she was always warning them tokeep their feet dry.
"Water's good for nothing except to drink," Henrietta informed herchicks. "Some strange people, like old dog Spot, jump right into it. Andhow they manage to keep well is more than I can understand. Dust bathsare the only safe ones."
So much did she fear water that Henrietta Hen wouldn't even let herchildren walk in the grass until the sun had dried the morning's dew. Andthe first sprinkle of rain was enough to send her scurrying for cover,calling frantically for her chicks to hurry.
Now, there was one of her family that always lagged behind when therain-drops began to fall. And often Henrietta had fairly to drive himaway from a puddle of water. She sometimes remarked with a sigh that hegave her more trouble than all the rest of her children together.
This was the youngster that Mrs. Hen's neighbors told one another wasdifferent from his brothers and sisters. But poor Henrietta Hen only knewthat he was unusually hard to manage.
As her family grew bigger, Henrietta Hen took them on longer strolls,always casting a careful eye aloft now and then, lest some hawk shouldswoop down upon her darlings. And though no hawk tried to surprise her,something happened one day that gave Henrietta almost as great a frightas any cruel hawk could have caused her.
They had strayed down by the duck-pond--had Henrietta and her children,stopping here and there to scratch for some tidbit, or to flutter in aninviting dust-heap. Once they had reached the bank of the pond Henriettabegan to wish she hadn't brought her family in that direction. For one ofthe youngsters--the one that never would hurry in out of therain--insisted on toddling down to the water's edge.
"Come away this instant!" Henrietta shrieked, as soon as she noticedwhere he was. "You'll get your feet wet the first thing you know."
She never said anything truer than that. The words were scarcely out ofher bill when the odd member of her family flung himself into the water.Or to be more exact, he flung himself _upon_ it; for he floated on thesurface as easily as a chip and began to paddle about as if he had swumall his life.
"Come back! Come back!" Henrietta Hen shrieked. "You'll be drowned--andyou'll get your feet wet!"
IV
A SWIMMER
Henrietta Hen ran as fast as she could down the bank and stood as nearthe water as she dared, cackling loudly and flapping her wings.
Her child, who was swimming in the duck-pond, seemed to have no intentionof minding her. Nor did he seem to have any intention of drowning; and asfor getting his feet wet, he acted as if he liked _that_.
"What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" Henrietta Hen squawked. She madeso much noise that some of her neighbors came a-running, to see what wasthe matter. And as soon as they discovered what had happened they beganto laugh.
"We may as well tell you," they said to Henrietta Hen, "that that chapout there is a duckling. The water won't hurt him."
Henrietta Hen gasped and gaped. She was astonished. But she soon pulledherself together. And it was just like her to begin to boast.
"See!" she cried to her friends, and waved a wing toward the water withan air of pride. "There isn't one of you that has a child that can beathim swimming."
"I should hope not!" said Polly Plymouth Rock with a shrug of her fineshoulders. And all the others agreed that they wanted no swimmers intheir families.
Henrietta Hen announced that she was sorry for them. "Every brood," shedeclared, "should have at least one swimmer in it." She began to strut upand down the edge of the duck-pond, clucking in a most overbearingfashion. Really, she had never felt quite so important before--not evenwhen her first brood pecked their way out of their shells.
"There's nothing quite like swimming," Henrietta Hen remarked with asilly smirk. "If it weren't for getting my feet wet I'd be tempted tolearn myself. No doubt my son could teach me."
"Your son!" the old white hen sniffed. "He's not your son, Henrietta Hen.Somebody played a joke on you. Somebody put a duck's egg under you whileyou were hatching your eggs. And I think I can guess who it was that didit."
For just a moment Henrietta Hen stood still. The news almost took herbreath away. Her comb trembled on the top of her head. She even stoppedclucking. And she looked from one to another of her companions as if inhopes of finding one face, at least, that looked doubtful.... Alas!Everybody appeared to agree with old Whitey.
"If this is so," Henrietta muttered at last, "it's strange nobody evernoticed before that there was a duckling in my brood."
"We knew from the very first!" Polly Plymouth Rock told her. "You werethe only one on the farm that didn't see that one of your family wasdifferent from the rest."
All this time the young duckling was swimming further and further away.He seemed to have forgotten all about his foster mother.
Henrietta Hen took one long last look at him. She guessed that she mighthave stood there forever cackling for him to come back and he wouldn'thave paid the slightest heed to her.
Then she gathered her children--her really own--about her. "Come!" shesaid to them, "We'll go back home now."
"What about him?" they demanded, pointing to the truant duckling who wasbobbing about on the rippling water. "Aren't you going to make him come,too?"
"No!" said their mother. "We're well rid of him. He has been more troubleto me than all the rest of you.... To tell the truth, I never liked himvery well."
V
CAUGHT BY MR. CROW
It wasn't far to the edge of the cornfield from the farmyard fence. AndHenrietta Hen was quick to discover that the freshly ploughed andharrowed field offered a fine place to scratch for all kinds of worms andbugs and grubs.
Not being what you might call a wise bird--like old Mr. Crow--Henriettadidn't know that Farmer Green had carefully planted corn in that field,in long rows. She did exclaim, however, that she was in great luck whennow and then she unearthed a few kernels of corn. But she wasn't_looking_ for corn. She merely ate it when she happened to find any.
It is no wonder, then, that she was amazed when a hoarse voice suddenlycried right in her ear, almost, "You're a thief and you can't deny it!"
She jumped. How could she have helped it? And the voice exclaimed,"There! You're guilty or you'd never have jumped like that."
Turning, Henrietta saw that a black, beady-eyed gentleman was staring ather sternly.
"It takes Mr. Crow to catch 'em," he croaked. "He can tell a corn-thiefhalf a mile away."
All this time Henrietta Hen hadn't said a word. At first she was toosurprised. And afterward she was too angry.
"Why don't you speak?" he demanded. He dearly loved a quarrel. Andsomehow it wasn't much fun quarrelling with anybody when the other partywouldn't say a word.
Still Henrietta Hen didn't open her mouth. She puzzled Mr. Crow. He evenforgot his
rage (for it always made him angry if anybody but himselfscratched up any corn).
"What's the matter with you?" he asked. "What's the reason you don'tspeak?"
"I'm too proud to talk with you," said Henrietta Hen. "I don't care to beseen speaking to you, sir."
"Ha!" Mr. Crow exploded. "Don't you think I'm as good as you are?"
"No!" said Henrietta Hen. "No, I don't!"
Mr. Crow was all for arguing with her. He began to tell Henrietta manythings about himself, how he had spent dozens of summers in PleasantValley, what a great traveller he was, how far he could fly in a day.There was no end to his boasting.
Yet Henrietta Hen never looked the least bit interested. Indeed, shebegan scratching for worms while he was talking. And that made the oldfellow angrier than ever.
"Don't you dare eat another kernel of corn!" he thundered. "If you do,I'll have to tell Farmer Green."
"He feeds me corn every day--cracked corn!" said Henrietta.
"Well, I never!" cried Mr. Crow. "What's he thinking of, wasting goodcorn like that?"
"Really, I mustn't be seen talking with you," Henrietta Hen told Mr.Crow. "If you want to know the answer to your question, come over to thebarnyard and ask the Rooster. He'll give you an answer that you won'tlike."
And then she walked away with stately steps.
Mr. Crow watched her with a baleful gleam in his eyes. He knew wellenough what Henrietta meant. The Rooster would rather fight him than not.And though Mr. Crow loved a quarrel, he never cared to indulge inanything more dangerous than harsh words.
The Tale of Henrietta Hen Page 1