"If we could eat all the corn before it's cut, we could save it—" old Mr. Crow began.
But the rest shouted him down. They knew that couldn't be done.
"There's your friend, the Muley Cow," said one of them to old Mr. Crow. "Why don't you tell her that Farmer Green's not treating the herd well? He gives them spoiled corn. If they'd refuse to eat it, it would serve him right."
"A good idea!" said everybody else—except old Mr. Crow. As for him, he made a wry face.
"I don't enjoy talking with the Muley Cow," he objected. "Besides, a talk with her would be of no use. She's one of the most stupid people I ever saw."
After a good deal of teasing by his cronies Mr. Crow at last consented to speak to the Muley Cow once more. And flying to the pasture, he flapped down near her.
"If I had been born a calf—" Mr. Crow began. But he got no further than that before the Muley Cow broke in upon his words.
"If you hadn't been born a rascal everybody would have a better opinion of you," she told him.
He began squawking at her at the top of his lungs.