“Are they at all like what you had before coming here?” asked the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen.
“Very much the same,” was the reply. “Only on the farm from which we came there were a great, great many more pens. It took four Men to care for us all. Most of us were White Plymouth Rocks. What are those fowls outside? We never saw any that looked just like them.”
“Oh,” replied the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen with a little smile, “they don’t know exactly what they are. The Shanghai Cock is a Shanghai, as any one can tell by looking at his long and feathery legs, but he and I are the only ones who belong to fine families. He is really an excellent fellow, although, of course, being a Shanghai is not being a Plymouth Rock.”
“Of course not,” agreed all the new fowls, speaking quite together. “We understand perfectly. You mean that he is a very good Shanghai.”
“Exactly,” said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen. “The other fowls think him rather cross, but he never has been cross to me. I think he gets tired of hearing some of them quarrel and fuss, and then he speaks right out.”
“One has to at times,” said the Cock, politely, for he saw that the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen wished him to like her friends. “When you can,” he added, “tell him that I would like to meet him. I suppose we shall not be allowed to go out of our own yard, but he can come up to the fence. And send the others also. We would like to meet our new neighbors.”
“I will,” replied the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, as she clucked to her Chickens. “Good-by. I see that we have fresh food coming.”
While her children were feeding she pretended to eat, pecking every now and then at the food, and chatting softly with them as they ate. There was always much to say about their manners at such times, and she had to use both of her eyes to make sure that they did not trample on the food. She also had to remind them often about wiping their bills on the grass when they had finished. She could not bear to see a Chicken running around with mush on the sides of his bill.
When they had eaten all they wished and ran away to play, she ate what was left and sat down to think. “I would like to be white,” she said to herself. “I would certainly like to be white, and live in style with those fowls who have just come. It must be lovely to be so important that one is taken riding on the cars and lifted around carefully in crates.”