Major Monkey drew back.

"No!" he groaned. "I don't want any more apples. I've had too many
already."

Aunt Polly Woodchuck shot a triumphant look at Mr. Crow.

"I thought so," she said. And she dropped the red apple back into her
basket. "Now," she went on, turning again to the Major, "I should like
to ask whether you're fond of corn."

Old Mr. Crow stepped forward quickly.

"I object!" he cried. "The less said about corn, the better!"

Aunt Polly Woodchuck hastened to explain that she meant no offense to
anyone.

"I merely wondered," she said, "whether you gave your guests corn to
eat at your party."

"Certainly not!" Mr. Crow exploded. "Certainly not!" And he glared at
the old lady as if to say: "Change the subject--for pity's sake!"

"You're a stranger in these parts, I take it," Aunt Polly said,
turning once more to Major Monkey. "No doubt you've been used to
eating different food from what you get hereabouts."

"That's so," the Major admitted. "I've been living mostly on boiled
rice, with a baked potato now and then."

"Ah! Cooked food!" said Aunt Polly. "And if you had that sort of fare,
you must have been living with _men_."

The Major looked uneasy.

"I don't care to talk about my past," he murmured. "Just you give me
something to warm my stomach a bit. That's all I ask of you."

Well, Aunt Polly Woodchuck handed him some peppermint leaves.

"Chew these," she directed him. "And if you don't feel better to-morrow
I'll lose my guess."

Major Monkey put the leaves into his mouth and made a wry face.

"Haven't you a lump of sugar to make this dose taste better?" he asked
her.

"There!" Aunt Polly cried. "You've been fed by _men_! I knew it all
the time."

Major Monkey made no comment on her remark. And settling his cap
firmly on his head he said that he must be going.

So he and Mr. Crow went off.

"Where are you going to spend the night?" Mr. Crow asked him as soon
as they were out of Aunt Polly's hearing.

"That haystack is a good place," said the Major. "I believe I'll live
there as long as I stay in Pleasant Valley."

"It's not far from the farmhouse," Mr. Crow observed. "Perhaps you
could steal--er--I mean _find_ a little cooked food there now and then."

"That's an idea," Major Monkey told him. But he did not explain
whether he thought it a good one or not.

VIII

A Secret

When Major Monkey awoke the following morning his pain had left him.
Creeping from the hayst