f there must be a change," said the younger, "I should prefer to
be called 'Missy,' for that reminds one a little of maidens."

"But I would rather be chopped to chips," said the elder.

At last they all went to work. The maidens rode--that is, they were
put in a wheelbarrow, and that was a distinction; but still they were
called "hand-rammers." "Mai----!" they said, as they were bumped upon
the pavement. "Mai----!" and they were very nearly pronouncing the
whole word "maiden;" but they broke off short, and swallowed the last
syllable; for after mature deliberation they considered it beneath
their dignity to protest. But they always called each other "maiden,"
and praised the good old days in which everything had been called by
its right name, and those who were maidens were called maidens. And
they remained as they were; for the hammer really broke off his
engagement with the younger one, for nothing would suit him but he
must have a maiden for his bride.

THE FARMYARD COCK AND THE WEATHERCOCK.

There were two Cocks--one on the dunghill, the other on the roof. Both
were conceited; but which of the two effected most? Tell us your
opinion; but we shall keep our own nevertheless.

The poultry-yard was divided by a partition of boards from another
yard, in which lay a manure-heap, whereon lay and grew a great
Cucumber, which was fully conscious of being a forcing-bed plant.

"That's a privilege of birth," the Cucumber said to herself. "Not all
can be born cucumbers; there must be other kinds too. The fowls, the
ducks, and all the cattle in the neighbouring yard are creatures too.
I now look up to the Yard Cock on the partition. He certainly is of
much greater consequence than the Weathercock, who is so highly
placed, and who can't even creak, much less crow; and he has neither
hens nor chickens, and thinks only of himself, and perspires
verdigris. But the Yard Cock--he's something like a cock! His gait is
like a dance, his crowing is music; and wherever he comes, it is known
directly. What a trumpeter he is! If he would only come in here! Even
if he were to eat me up, stalk and all, it would be a blissful death,"
said the Cucumber.

In the night the weather became very bad. Hens, chickens, and even the
Cock himself sought shelter. The wind blew down the partition between
the two yards with a crash; the tiles came tumbling down, but the
Weathercock sat firm. He did not even turn round; he could not turn
roun