d to talk with Turkey
Proudfoot in the cornfield. It was fall; and the shocks of corn stood on
every hand like great fat scarecrows, with fat yellow pumpkins lying at
their feet, as if the scarecrows' heads had fallen off.

Mr. Crow always yawned a good deal when he chatted with Turkey Proudfoot
and he wasn't always as careful as he might have been about covering up
his yawns. Somehow Mr. Crow found Turkey Proudfoot dull company. Turkey
Proudfoot had never been off the farm. On the other hand, old Mr. Crow
was a great traveller. In his younger days he used to spend every winter
in the South. And though he felt that the long journey had become too
hard for him now, he thought nothing of flying around Blue Mountain and
up and down Pleasant Valley.

As a result of his wanderings Mr. Crow had learned many things. And as a
result of his staying at home, Turkey Proudfoot had learned little or
nothing. Often Turkey Proudfoot complained to Mr. Crow that he couldn't
even understand what Mr. Crow was talking about. But on this occasion
Mr. Crow mentioned something that made him shudder.

"Ho, hum!" Mr. Crow yawned again. "My appetite isn't what it used to be.
I believe I need to eat something tart. So I think I'll go over to the
cranberry bog and pick a few cranberries. Why don't you come along with
me?"

"Ugh!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "Cranberries! I can't stand even the
mention of them."

"Ha!" Mr. Crow murmured to himself. "I've waked him up at last. I
thought that would fetch him." And to Turkey Proudfoot he said, "Do you
mean to tell me that you don't like cranberries? Why, I've always heard
Turkey and cranberry sauce mentioned together."

"Ah!" said Turkey Proudfoot. "I've no doubt you've heard them spoken of
only too often. But that's no reason why I should be fond of cranberry
sauce. To tell the truth, all my life I've schemed to keep away from
it."

"Then you don't care for the sharp taste of cranberries," said Mr. Crow.

"I've never eaten any," Turkey Proudfoot told him. "I'm sure I couldn't
eat any if I wanted to. I believe the sight of them would take my
appetite away."

Old Mr. Crow shook his head. And he leaned over to pick up a stray
kernel of corn.

"Don't take that!" Turkey Proudfoot warned him. "I've had my eye on that
kernel. I was going to eat it as soon as you went away."

Old Mr. Crow bolted the kernel of corn in a twinkling.

"You forget that you're not in the farmyard," he said boldly. "