I shan’t get up and crow to-day;
I’ve never laid in bed—so then!
I shall not crow till half-past ten—to-night!”
“Oh, Feather Flop!” cried Mary Frances. “Oh, Feather Flop! How you disappoint me! Why, I’ve gotten up early because you promised to help in my garden! Come, get up!” going toward the bed.
“Excuse me!” exclaimed Feather Flop, hopping out of bed. “Excuse my bad manners, dear Miss,” and away he ran out the door and into the garden before Mary Frances could catch up.
“My, but you can dress quickly, Feather Flop,” she called.
“Oh, nothing like having your clothes grow on you,” answered Feather Flop, lifting his wings, “especially if they are pretty.”
Mary Frances laughed. “Come, come, no conceited remarks, please,” she chided; “and now to work.”
“It takes longer than you’d think,” said Feather Flop, beginning to scratch, “especially with an empty stomach.”
“How dreadful of me not to think of your breakfast, Feather Flop,” she said, and ran to get some corn.