HOW MRS. WHITE HEN HELPED ROSE

A beautiful rose tree grew in the garden. Every morning she smiled up at the golden sun. But one morning when the sun rose, he was surprised to see that his friend, the rose, drooped sadly. He sent one of his warm rays down to earth to find out what the matter was.

“Dear Rose,” said the bright sunbeam, “why do you droop and look so sad?”

“Ah, me!” sighed the rose, “I am so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating my leaves, and he will not crawl away.”

The sun felt very sorry for the rose. “I will not shine,” he said, “until Rose is happy.” So he hid behind a dark cloud.

The wind came hurrying along. “Father Sun,” he cried, “why are you not shining to-day?”

“Ah, me!” answered the sun, “dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. I will shine no more until Rose is happy.”

“I, too, am so sorry,” whispered the wind. “I will blow no more until Rose is happy.” So saying he dropped to the earth and was still.

A bird was surprised when the wind stopped.

“Mr. Wind,” he called, “why have you stopped blowing?”

“Ah, me!” sighed the wind. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more and I will blow no more until Rose is happy.”

“I, also, love Rose,” sang the bird; “and I will sing no more until Rose is happy.” He flew away silently to his nest in the oak tree.

“It is not night,” said the old tree; “why are you not flying and singing, little bird?”

“Ah, me!” chirped the bird. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, and I will sing no more until Rose is happy.”

“That is all very sad,” whispered the tree. “I shall drop no more acorns until Rose is happy.”

Soon the squirrel came to gather some nuts. But he could find very few.

“Dear Tree,” he chattered, “please drop down some acorns.”

“No,” answered the tree. “I cannot, now.”

“Why not?” asked the squirrel.

“Ah, me!” rustled the tree. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, and I will drop no more acorns until Rose is happy again.”

“And I will work no more,” chirped the squirrel. “I will run away to my nest in the old hollow tree.”

On the way to his home the squirrel met Mrs. Brown Duck.

“Good morning, Mr. Squirrel,” quacked the duck. “Why are you not working this morning?”

“Ah, me!” replied the squirrel. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, Oak Tree will drop no more acorns, and I will work no more till Rose is happy.”

“Then I will swim no more,” said Mrs. Brown Duck. And she waddled off to the barnyard. There she met Mrs. White Hen.

“Why do you look so sad, Mrs. Duck?” said the hen.

“Ah, me!” quacked the duck. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, Bird will sing no more, Oak Tree will drop no more acorns, Squirrel will work no more, and I will swim no more until Rose is happy again.”

“Indeed! Indeed!” cackled Mrs. White Hen. “Pray tell me how stopping your work will help Rose. If you wish Rose to be happy, you must do something for her. Come with me.”

Away hurried the hen and the duck until they came to the rose. The old hen asked no questions. She did not even take time to say “Good morning.” But she cocked her head first on one side, then on the other, searching through the leaves of the rosebush with her bright little eyes. Suddenly she darted forward. “Snap!” went her bill, and the worm was swallowed.

“There, Mrs. Duck,” clucked the hen, “see how I have helped Rose and at the same time got a nice breakfast for myself.”

At once the rose looked up toward the sun and smiled. Thereupon the sun began to shine.

“If I had only thought,” said the sun, “I might have burned that worm with my hot rays.”

“And I might have blown him away,” whistled the wind, springing up suddenly.

“If I had only thought,” sang the bird, “I might have had a nice fat worm for breakfast.”

“And so might I,” quacked the duck as she waddled away toward the pond.

The oak tree shook down a great shower of acorns, and the squirrel hastened to gather them. They, too, wished they had thought of some way to help Rose.

But the clever old white hen said nothing at all.