PHOEBE PHEASANT
Little Phoebe Pheasant's dew-wet feet hurried along the edge of the Sunny Meadow. Mr. Merry Sun hadn't been up long enough to dry the grass, for it was very early in the morning.
In some places the dew had turned to frost, but the little pheasant didn't mind that in the least, for she is a hardy bird, and not a bit afraid of cold weather.
The weather is about the only thing she isn't afraid of, for she is very timid. Although she sometimes went to the Old Farmyard for breakfast, at the slightest noise she would fly away.
As she hurried along through the dewy frost she caught sight of Little Jack Rabbit. And as he was the one person she wished to see that morning, it didn't take her long to reach the Old Bramble Patch.
"Good morning, Phoebe Pheasant," said the little bunny. "You seem in a hurry."
"Yes, I'm in a dreadful hurry to ask you something," replied the little pheasant.
"Well, what is it?" laughed the little bunny.
"You remember Turkey Tim left the Old Farmyard before Thanksgiving?"