"Flop, will you watch the pie for a minute while I run across the street and borrow a yeast cake from Mrs. Wibblewobble, the duck lady?"
"Yes, of course I will," said Flop, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Then he looked all around the kitchen, and on the table where it was cooling he saw the nice pies his mamma had made, and he thought how good a piece would be, and then he also saw something else.
Into the kitchen came creeping a bad old egg dog—the same one who had tried to get the eggs from Curly a few days before.
"Pies!" cried the bad egg dog! "Custard pies! How I love 'em! Yum-yum!" and with that he made a jump and he was just going to eat the lovely custard pie Mrs. Twistytail had made when Flop said:
"Here, you let that pie alone, if you please. It isn't yours. It's my mamma's."
"No matter!" growled the bad egg dog. "I will eat it anyhow, and you can't stop me!"
And with that he started to throw Flop out of the window, but the little piggie boy cried:
"Oh, what shall I do? Will no one help me?"
"Yes, of course. I will!" answered a voice, and then that queer object, which Flop had thought was a stone, began to move. Out of a shell came a long neck, and a head with a sharp mouth on the end, and out came four sharp claws, and instead of a stone there was a mud turtle as large as life. Really there was, I'm not fooling a bit!
"I'll help you!" cried the brave turtle.