nd he turned to one of the attendants standing by the throne,
"take this stupid, little white hen and throw her out into the royal
poultry yard. I think we will have her for dinner to-morrow."

The little white hen was roughly seized by the tallest royal attendant
and carried down the back stairs, through the back gate, out into the
royal poultry yard. She still clung to the little brown basket which
she had brought with her on her long journey to the royal palace and
through all the sad experiences she had met there.

When the little white hen reached the royal poultry yard all the royal
fowls flew at her. Some plucked at her rumpled white feathers. Others
tried to pick out her eyes. One pulled off the cover of the little
brown basket.

Out sprang the fox from the little brown basket and in the twinkling
of an eye he fell upon the fowls of the royal poultry yard. Not a
single fowl was left alive.

There was such a great commotion that the king, the queen, the royal
attendants and all the royal servants of the palace came rushing out
to see what was the matter. The fox had already taken to his heels and
the little white hen lost no time in running away too. She did not,
however, forget to take her little brown basket with her.

The royal household all ran after her in swift pursuit. They had
almost caught her when the river suddenly sprang out of the little
brown basket and flowed between the little white hen and her royal
pursuers. They couldn't get across without canoes.

While they were getting the canoes and climbing into them the little
white hen had time to run a long way. She had almost reached a thick
forest where she could easily hide herself when the royal pursuers
again drew near. Then the fire which had changed itself into hot ashes
jumped out of the little brown basket. It immediately became dark, so
dark that the royal household could not even see each other's faces
and, of course, they could not see in which direction the little
white hen was running. There was nothing for them to do but to return
to the royal palace and live on beef and mutton.

The fire which had turned itself into ashes sprang out of the little
brown basket so suddenly that it scattered ashes all over the little
white hen. From that day she was always speckled where the ashes fell
upon her. The chickens of the little white hen (who was now a little
speckled hen) were all speckled too. So were their chickens and their
chickens a