Jess was having a thrilling time trying to get her costume together. She had set her heart on going as a chicken, and every one knows that if there is one thing a chicken cannot do without, it is feathers.
“I can manage the wings,” she confided to Dora, the good-natured maid in her mother’s kitchen, “because I can use those two turkey wings we had left from last Thanksgiving. But where will I get the rest of the feathers?”
Good fortune smiled unexpectedly on Jess. At least, she thought it was good fortune. Passing Mrs. Pepper’s house one morning on her way to the store for her mother—it was Saturday—Jess spied a barrel standing at the edge of the drive. It was filled with soft, fluffy chicken feathers!
“Oh, Mrs. Pepper, are you throwing those feathers away?” asked Jess, in the tone of one who has found a neighbor tossing out a gold mine.
Mrs. Pepper was raking leaves from her lawn. Carrie usually stayed in bed late Saturday mornings, and she was not up yet.
“Why, yes, Jess, I put that barrel out for the junk man. He comes through town on Saturdays,” answered Mrs. Pepper. “Those feathers aren’t good enough to save for pillows, and I don’t like to burn them.”
“Could—could I have them?” asked Jess, her eyes shining.
“My lands, child! what do you want with them?” exclaimed Mrs. Pepper. “Take them and welcome, of course; but I’ll need the barrel back. Barrels are scarce, and I like to make mine last.”
“I’ll bring the barrel right back,” promised Jess, joyfully. “Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Pepper.”
Mrs. Pepper stared at her as the small girl began to roll the barrel toward her side lawn. The Pepper property joined Mr. Larue’s, and Jess had not far to go. The feathers, of course, weighed almost nothing, and the task was not difficult, but Mrs. Pepper stood racking her brains to think what use Jess could have for the down and bits of feathers she had thrown away. She was still standing there ten minutes later when Carrie came out.