"I didn't mean to Mickey!" she protested.
Mrs. Harding reached over and picked the chicken from Mickey's fingers.
"That chicken wasn't very well to begin with," she said. "'You give it to me, and I'll doctor it up, while you take another one. Which do you want?"
"Yellow," sniffed Peaches, "but please hurry, and Mickey, you hold this one. Maybe I held too hard!"
"Yes you did," laughed Peter. "But we wanted to see what you'd do. One little chicken is a small price for the show you give. It's all right, Butterfly."
"Peter, you make everything all right, don't you?"
"Well honey, I would if I could," said Peter. "But that's something of a contract. Now you rest till after dinner, and if Ma and Mickey agree on it, we'll go see the meadow brook and hear the birds sing."
"The water!" shouted Peaches. "Mickey, you promised——"
"Yes I remember," said Mickey. "I'll see how cold it is and if I think it won't chill you—yes."
"Oh gee!" chortled Peaches. "'Nother blesses!"