Then Mr. Crow was in a bad fix. He hopped around first on one foot and then on the other while Mr. Dog was putting on his things, and as soon as he was gone he skipped right up into his own room and locked the door tight.
Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum were looking out of their windows and saw Mr. Dog outside as he lit his pipe and marched off laughing. And the 'Coon and 'Possum laughed, too, for they hadn't had any company at all, but had been making believe all the time. Then they unbarred their doors and went down into the parlor, where there was a lot of the supper left, and sat down and passed the fried chicken across to each other and laughed some more and said Mr. Crow was certainly a mighty good cook.
"Didn't they give the Crow any?" asked the Little Lady, who had been so still that the Story Teller believed her asleep.
Pretty soon they did. They said it was too bad to punish him any longer, so they went up to his door, and the 'Possum knocked and said:—
"Better come down to supper, Mr. Crow. Comp'ny's all gone!"
And then the 'Coon he knocked and said:—
"Better come down to fried chicken, Mr. Crow. Comp'ny's all gone!"
So then the Crow opened the door a little crack and peeked out, and when he saw nobody was there but the 'Coon and the 'Possum he stepped out as brave as you please and said that he had been to one big supper and was sleepy and just going to bed, but that he believed he would sit down with them just to be sociable. He was sorry, he said, that he couldn't have asked them to bring down their comp'ny, but he hadn't fixed for so many, and, after all, it would be nicer now, all alone together.
So then the 'Coon and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow all sat down to the table together and ate and ate and ate, and the Old Black Crow ate most of all.