uldn't see that she
improved him very much. Squawker seemed quite pleased, however, and
turned himself round and round for their approval.

"What kind of birds are these new ones?" he asked the Lady Goose when
she had finished with him.

"Why just three more of us, Squawker, dear," she answered.

This remark made all three children open their eyes very wide.

"Nonsense," began Rudolf angrily, "_we_ aren't geese!"

From the other end of the room came the voice of the Gentleman Goose,
who spoke without turning round. "What makes you think that?" he
asked.

"Because we aren't--we--"

--"You're molting pretty badly, of course, now you mention it,"
interrupted the Lady Goose, "you and the little one. But this one's
feathers seem in nice condition." As she spoke she laid a long claw
lovingly on Ann's head. "How much would you say a pound, father?"

"Can't say till I get 'em in the scales, of course," and, smoothing
down his apron, the Gentleman Goose advanced toward Ann in a
businesslike fashion. The two little apprentices, carrying bags,
followed at his heels.

Ann clung to Rudolf. "I haven't any feathers," she screamed. "They're
curls. I'm not a nasty bird--I'm a little girl with hair!"

"She doesn't want to be plucked!" exclaimed the Gray Goose who had
returned to the stove to stir the contents of the iron pot. "Well,
now, did you ever! Maybe it goes in her family. I had a great-aunt
once on my father's side who--"

"They're feathers, all right," chuckled Squawker. "You're a perfect
little duck, that's what I think."

"Me, too," chimed in Squealer.

The Gentleman Goose reached over the Lady Goose's shoulder, snatched
the spectacles off her nose without so much as by your leave, set them
crookedly on his own, and looked over them long and earnestly at Ann.
"So you want to call 'em hair, do you?" he snapped. "I suppose you
think you belong in a hair mattress!"

Ann was ready to cry, and Rudolf had drawn his sword with the
intention of doing his best to protect her, when at that moment a new
voice was heard. Looking in at the little window over the top of the
red geranium the children saw a good-humored furry face with long
bristly whiskers and bright twinkly eyes.

"Anybody mention my name?" said the voice, and a large Belgian Hare
leaped lightly into the room. He was handsomely dressed in a light
overcoat and checked trousers, and wore gaiters over his
patent-leather boots. He had a thick gold watch-chai