"That's good news," said old dog Spot. "I've been hoping to hear something like that. We're well rid of that Snowball Lamb."

"Oh! But they brought him back with them!" Henrietta Hen explained.

Spot's face fell. "That's a pity," he said.

Henrietta Hen peered into Spot's face. There was something that she couldn't understand.

"Why aren't you angry?" she inquired in her high-pitched voice. "Don't you realize that Snowball tried to follow the wagon to the village? To be sure, they picked him up down at the corner. But I want you to know that he tried to take your place."

At that old Spot let out a howl of rage.

"I'll never go woodchuck hunting again!" he cried. "Things have come to a pretty pass if I can't leave the farmyard for a few hours without having a lamb insult me like that."

Henrietta Hen was pleased.

"I thought you'd want to know what had happened," she remarked. "And now I must add that Snowball has been boasting about his trip. Of course, his journey was nothing, compared with my visit to the county fair last year. But I don't like to hear a lamb telling about his travels. Can't you put a stop to it?"

Old dog Spot shook his head.