"Who are you?" they asked.
"Fanny," she replied.
They all came out to look at her.
"Why, it really is Fanny!" they exclaimed. "But how you have grown! How bright your red spots are! And how softly silvered is your under-side! How white and strong your teeth! You are certainly the beauty of the family. Have you come to live with us?"
"Yes, oh yes," she answered joyfully. What happiness was hers, after the long months of shame and loneliness!
It was a pleasant life they led. By day, while the warm sun shone, they basked below the mud. At night they feasted on the shoals of shrimps and jointed darting creatures that filled the water over them. As they slowly moved from bank to bank their upper skins changed colour with the colour of the floor on which they fed, and thus securely hid them from their enemies.
One day the whitebait, grown now to little herrings, came up the estuary. "Why, there is Fanny Flatface," said one.
Her sister flounders rose beside her. The herrings gaped in wonder. "So that was just your way of growing up!" they said at last.
"Just my way of growing up," said Fanny cheerfully.