Pussy Cat looked up and saw Weather-Vane whirling and pointing. “O, Weather-Vane,” she cried out. “Why do you whirl and point so?”
“Because I can do nothing else,” answered the Weather-Vane. “Mr. Leghorn has fallen into the brook and is drowned; Mrs. Leghorn is screaming and cackling; Wind-Mill is swinging his arms and creaking; the Big Barn Door is slamming and banging; the Old Red Ox is pawing and bellowing; the Watch Dog is barking and whining; and the Old Gray Horse is prancing and neighing. That’s why I am whirling and pointing so.”
“O, how sad!” said Pussy Cat. “I’ll waul and squall. That’s the best I can do.” And she fell to wauling and squalling with all her might.
At this moment, when Pussy Cat was wauling and squalling, when the Weather-Vane was whirling and pointing, when the Old Gray Horse was prancing and neighing, when the Watch Dog was barking and whining, when the Old Red Ox was pawing and bellowing, when the Big Barn Door was slamming and banging, when the Wind-Mill was swinging his arms and creaking, when Mrs. Leghorn was screaming and cackling, Mr. Leghorn flew to the highest rail on the fence and crew,
“Cock-a-doodle-doo,
What’s the matter with you?”
