When Clematis came near the fence, they ran and put their fore feet up, and stuck their noses out.
“Uff, uff,” they said. Then they squealed.
“Oh, I know! Those are pigs!” cried Clematis, clapping her hands.
Eight clean, white pigs were grunting and squealing for their supper.
“Squeal away, piggies,” said Mr. Alder. “Supper will be along soon.”
In a moment, he brought from the dairy a bright milk pail. Then they went down to the gate, and he called:
“Come boss, come boss. Come Betty.”
A sleek, plump cow came over the hill, and hurried down to the gate. It was just the color of a mouse.
“Dear old Betty. Steady now.” Betty pushed through, and walked fast to the barn, where she began to whisper to her calf, and lap it with her great rough tongue.
As Clematis came up, Betty put her head down, and shook her horns.