So away ran Mr. Leghorn to the Wise Owl, screaming with all his might.
“O, Mr. Wise Owl,” he cried, “my poor Mrs. Leghorn is starving. She can’t swallow the big nut. What shall I do?”
“Who, who, who?” hooted the Wise Owl, blinking his great round eyes.
“Mrs. Leghorn, my Mrs. Leghorn, my own dear Mrs. Leghorn,” fairly shrieked Mr. Cock. “She can’t swallow the big nut. She will starve. Can you tell me what to do?”
Mr. Wise Owl stared straight ahead a moment—it seemed an age to Mr. Leghorn—then answered slowly, “Yes, Mr. Leghorn, I can tell you what to do. But you must first bring me a mouse.”
Away rushed Mr. Leghorn to Pussy Cat. “My good Miss Pussy Cat,” he cried, “dear Mrs. Leghorn is starving. Will you please catch me a mouse? I want it to take to Mr. Wise Owl, who is going to tell me what to do.”
“Yes, Mr. Leghorn,” answered Pussy Cat, “I will catch you a mouse, but you must first bring me a saucer of milk.”