"You have gout!" she cried. "And it's the worst case I ever saw."
That made Mr. Crow feel proud and happy.
"What about a cure?" he inquired. "I shouldn't like to have my foot like this always. If you could cure it in a week I would be satisfied. But I want at least a week in which to show my foot to my friends."
"You'll be lucky if you're better in a month," said Aunt Polly Woodchuck. "You must be very careful about what you eat. You may have all the ginseng and Jimson weed and elecampane that you wish. And drink plenty of catnip tea! But until you're quite well again, don't touch corn, grasshoppers, birds' eggs, field-mice, or elderberries. If you eat such things your other foot may swell. And then you'd be unable to walk at all."
Mr. Crow was no longer happy.
"Those are the things I like best—the last that you mentioned," he said.
"And the food you tell me I may have is exactly the kind I've never cared
for in the least. As for catnip tea, I can't swallow it!" he groaned.
"Haven't you some other remedy? Can't you give me a pill?"
But Aunt Polly Woodehuck said there was no other way.
"I never can remember what you've told me," Mr. Crow objected.
"I can fix that," said Aunt Polly. And then she went into her house, returning presently with a basket. From the basket she drew forth a handful of herbs, which she gave to Mr. Crow.
"Take these," she said, "and put them in your right-hand pocket. These are what you may eat—a sample of each herb."