"What do you think?" Polly asked. "Is Henrietta in danger of losing this egg that she thinks so much of?"
"She needn't be alarmed," old Whitey answered. "If Johnnie Green robs her of this one, I'll miss my guess."
"Oh! I'm glad to hear you say that!" Henrietta Hen cried. "Now I won't need to worry—that is, if you know what you're talking about."
That, of course, was a most impolite way for Henrietta Hen to speak to anybody of old Whitey's age. Whitey was the oldest hen in the flock. And what she didn't know about such things as nests and eggs and roosts wasn't worth knowing.
Polly Plymouth Rock didn't like Henrietta Hen's remark. She opened her mouth.
And no doubt she would have said something quite sharp in reply. But old Whitey stopped her.
"Never mind!" said Whitey. "The day will come when Henrietta Hen will agree that my guess is a good one."
Still Henrietta Hen felt uneasy about that big, white egg.
"I do hope Johnnie Green won't find this new nest of mine," she remarked.
"If he does, I fear he'll take my beautiful egg away from me."