Old Mr. Crow bolted the kernel of corn in a twinkling.
"You forget that you're not in the farmyard," he said boldly. "You can't treat me as if I were a Hen." And he chuckled—in a croaking sort of fashion.
Turkey Proudfoot glared at him. He knew that it was useless to rush at Mr. Crow. The old gentleman would only rise into the air and sail away with a loud haw-haw.
Now, Mr. Crow was a famous tease. He dearly loved to annoy others. And he gave Turkey Proudfoot a sly glance.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed. "I have a twinge of rheumatism."
"Where is your pain?" asked Turkey Proudfoot.
"In one of my drumsticks," said old Mr. Crow promptly, with a spluttering cough, to keep from laughing.
Turkey Proudfoot was furious.
"Cranberry sauce and drumsticks!" he exclaimed. "You do choose the most painful things to talk about."