The smell of hot biscuit made Clematis feel very hungry, and she was glad that supper was all ready.
With the biscuit, was golden butter, and apple sauce.
“Do you like warm milk right from the cow?” asked Mrs. Alder.
“Yes’m,” replied Clematis, with a nod.
So Mrs. Alder put a little pitcher, with a glass, not much bigger than a thimble, beside her plate.
She could pour it out herself, as often as she emptied her glass.
“Better leave room for some fresh blueberry pie, and a piece of cheese,” said Mr. Alder.
The little red hen