d
fretful. It is no wonder they felt that way, for they had had nothing to
eat or drink since early in the morning. The cold wind howled around
their house. Hour after hour went by, but no one came near the henhouse.

The handsome white rooster, however, seemed as happy as usual. That is
saying a great deal, for a jollier old fellow than he never lived in a
farmyard. Sunshine, rain, or snow were all the same to him, and he
crowed quite as merrily in stormy weather as in fair.

"Well," he said, laughing, as he looked about the henhouse, "you all
seem to be having a fit of dumps."

Nobody answered the white rooster, but a faint cluck or two came from
some of the hens. They immediately put their heads back under their
wings, however, as if ashamed of having spoken at all.

This was too much for the white rooster. He stood first on one yellow
foot and then on the other. Turning his head from side to side, he said,
"What's the use of looking so sad? Any one would think that you expected
to be eaten by a band of hungry foxes."

Just then a brave little white bantam rooster hopped down from his
perch. He strutted over to the big rooster and caused quite a flutter in
the henhouse by saying:

"We're lively enough when our crops are full, but when we are starving,
it is a wonder that we can hold our heads up at all. If I ever see that
farmer's boy again, I'll--I'll--I'll peck his foot!"

"You won't see him until he feeds us," said the white rooster, "and then
I guess you will peck his corn."

"Oh, oh!" moaned the brown hen. "Don't speak of a peck of corn."

"Madam," said the white rooster, bowing very low, "your trouble is my
own,--that is, I'm hungry, too. But we might be worse off. We might be
in a box on our way to market. It is true that we haven't had anything
to eat to-day, but we at least have room enough to stretch our wings."

"Why, that is a fact," clucked the brown hen. And all the feathered
family--even the smallest chickens--stretched their wings, and looked a
little more cheerful.

"Now, then," went on the rooster, "suppose we have a little music to
cheer us and help pass the hours until roosting time. Let us all crow.
There, I beg your pardon, ladies; I am sorry you can't crow. Let us sing
a happy song. Will you be kind enough to start a merry tune, Mrs. Brown
Hen?"

The brown hen shook herself proudly, tossed her head back and
began,--"Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca!" In less than two minutes every one in the
he