If Henrietta Hen found a spot where somebody had spilled a few kernels of corn Turkey Proudfoot was more than likely to rush up to her and cry, "Go away! I've had my eye on that corn for some time. I saw it first."
On such occasions there was nothing Henrietta Hen could do except to stand aside and look on while Turkey Proudfoot ate the corn. He was so much bigger than she that he could bowl her over easily.
On her own account Henrietta didn't really think it worth while to try to make any trouble for Turkey Proudfoot. But when she led her first brood of chicks into the yard to teach them to find food for themselves, Turkey Proudfoot's lordly ways made her very angry.
"Move your family over on the gravel drive!" Turkey Proudfoot ordered her.
Henrietta Hen said flatly that she wouldn't.
"There are no bugs—no worms—in the gravel," she told him. "My chicks have a right to go anywhere on this farm."
Turkey Proudfoot looked at her in[p. 47] amazement. Never before had Henrietta Hen spoken to him in such a way.
"Hoity-toity!" he exclaimed. "Aren't you forgetting your manners, Henrietta?"
"No, I'm not!" she snapped. "I've stood too much from you all my life. I warn you now that the worm has turned."