they couldn't
learn it. They'll waddle to the end of their days."

"There!" cried the hen turkeys to the hens. "You hear what he says. The
geese weren't chasing him. He was trying to teach them to strut."

"Huh!" exclaimed Henrietta Hen, who always spoke her mind right out.
"Turkey Proudfoot had better be careful. Some day those geese will teach
him how to waddle."

VI

THE MIMIC

Young Master Meadow Mouse had often peeped at Turkey Proudfoot from
behind a clump of grass, or a hill of corn. But he had never dared show
himself to Turkey Proudfoot. Somehow the old gobbler looked terribly
fierce. And he was so big that Master Meadow Mouse didn't like the idea
of even saying "Good day!" to him. He had heard Turkey Proudfoot spoken
of as a "gobbler." Who knew but that a gobbler would gobble up young
Master Meadow Mouse if he had a chance?

Unseen by everybody, Master Meadow Mouse had watched the geese drive
Turkey Proudfoot across the farmyard and seen him flapping up to roost
in a tree out of their reach. And though Turkey Proudfoot strutted and
tried to act very lordly as he headed the procession across the yard,
Master Meadow Mouse had noticed how Turkey Proudfoot kept a wary eye on
the geese behind him, and stepped not quite so high as he usually did,
but further.

"Ho!" Master Meadow Mouse had piped to himself in his thin voice.
"Turkey Proudfoot is not the brave fellow I always thought him. He's
afraid of geese!"

From that moment Master Meadow Mouse forgot his fear of Turkey
Proudfoot. Nobody stands in awe of a coward. So the very next time that
Master Meadow Mouse saw Turkey Proudfoot strutting in the yard he crept
up behind Turkey Proudfoot and tried to walk exactly like him.

There were a good many farmyard fowls scratching about the yard at the
time, and wishing to appear at his best, Turkey Proudfoot spread his
tail, puffed out his chest, and strolled all around as if he--and and
not Farmer Green--owned the place.

Although Turkey Proudfoot seemed to see none of his neighbors,
nevertheless he was watching them carefully out of the corner of his
eye, to see whether they were noticing him.

They were. There was no doubt of that.

Not only were they looking at him; they were laughing at him as well.

Turkey Proudfoot's face couldn't grow red with rage. It was red already.
It was always red. Being very angry, he gobbled at the giggling hens, at
the rooster, even at old dog Spot, "Why are you