over it.

Several times during the night, Mother Etienne and the maid came
to look at the hen, who, worn out by such a long day of fatigue
and suffering, at last closed her eyes, relaxed, and slept till
morning.

Nevertheless she was the first in the house to wake up, and at
dawn began to cackle vigorously. Germaine hastened to her,
bringing a quantity of corn which the hen, doubtless owing to her
fast of the day before, ate greedily.

Now the important thing was to find her a practical costume. The
weather was mild but there was great danger in allowing her to
wander about in a garb as light as it was primitive. The mornings
and evenings were cool and might bring on a cold, inflammation or
congestion of the lungs, rheumatism, or what not.

At all costs a new misfortune must be avoided. At last they
dressed her in silk cunningly fashioned and lined with wadding.
Thus garbed her entry into the poultry-yard was a subject of
astonishment to some, fear to others, and excitement to most of
the birds she met on her way.

In vain Mother Etienne strove to tone down the colours of the
stuffs, to modify the cut of the garments, but Yollande long
remained an object of surprise and antipathy to the majority of
the poultry.

The scandal soon reached its climax.

"That hen must be mad," said an old duck to his wife.

"Just imagine dressing up like that; she'll come along one of
these days in a bathing suit," cried a young rooster who prided
himself on his wit.

A young turkey tugged at her clothes, trying to pull them off, and
all the others looked on laughing and hurling insults.... They
vied with one another in sarcastic speeches. At last, after a
time, as the saying goes, "Familiarity bred contempt." The fear
which her companions had felt at first soon changed into a
familiarity often too great for the unhappy Cochin-China. They
tried to see who could play her the shabbiest trick. Hens are
often as cruel as men, which is saying a great deal.

Poor Yollande, in spite of her size, her solidity, and strength,
nearly always emerged half-dressed. Her companions could not stand
her dressed like that, the sight of her irritated them. Not
content with tearing her clothes they often pecked at the poor
creature as well.

Mother Etienne did her best to improve these costumes in every
way--but it was as impossible to find perfection as the
philosopher's stone.

They hoped at the farm that in time the feathers would grow ag