good-by to your pretty
guinea-hen," said Barbara in a rude tone.

"It has done no damage," said Susan; "but tell me what I must pay."

"A shilling," said Barbara.

"Oh, if only sixpence would do!" said Susan; "I have but sixpence of
my own in the world, and here it is."

"It won't do," said Barbara, turning her back.

"Nay, but hear me," cried Susan, "let me at least come in to look for
its eggs. I only want one for my father's supper. You shall have all
the rest."

"What is your father or his supper to us; is he so particular that he
can eat none but guinea-hen's eggs?" said Barbara. "If you want your
hen and your eggs, pay for them, and you shall have them."

"I have only sixpence and you say that won't do," said Susan with a
sigh, as she looked at her favorite which was in the maid's cruel
hands, struggling and screaming in vain.

Susan went away feeling very sad. At the door of her father's cottage
she saw her friend Rose, who had just come to summon her to the
hawthorn-bush.

"They are all at the hawthorn, and I have come for you. We can do
nothing without you, dear Susan," cried Rose, running to meet her the
moment she saw her, "You are chosen Queen of the May--come, make
haste. But what is the matter? Why do you look so sad?"

"Ah!" said Susan, "don't wait for me; I can't come to you, but," she
added, pointing to the tuft of cowslips in the garden, "gather those
for little Mary; I promised them to her, and tell her the violets are
under a hedge just beside the stile, on the right as we go to church.
Good-by! never mind me; I can't come--I can't stay, for my father
wants me."

"But don't turn away your face; I won't keep you a moment; only tell
me what is the matter," said her friend, following her into the
cottage.

"Oh, nothing, not much," said Susan; "if I had not wanted the egg in a
great hurry for father, it would not have vexed me--to be sure I
should have clipped my guinea-hen's wings, and then she could not have
flown over the hedge; but let us think no more about it now," she
added, trying to hide a tear.

When Rose, however, learned that her friend's guinea-hen was kept a
prisoner by Barbara, she was hot with indignation, and at once ran
back to tell the story to her companions.

II

BAD NEWS

As Susan entered the cottage parlor, Farmer Price drew his chair close
to his wife. "You see there is something amiss with me," he said; "I
must tell you what it is." Her father lower