“Oh, please don’t go away,” he begged. “I’m so awfully ashamed of myself I don’t know what to say. That’s the reason I didn’t answer.”
“You poor dear old Feather Flop,” cried Mary Frances, opening the slats. “You poor old fellow!”
“I’m so awfully ashamed,” went on the rooster, “that I’d gladly have you chop my head off and make a potpie of me.”
“Oh, Feather Flop, don’t feel quite so bad as that,” exclaimed Mary Frances. “I forgive you, my friend.”
For the first time, Feather Flop looked up.
“Do you?” he asked. “Please tell me again.”
“I forgive you, Feather Flop,” repeated Mary Frances, gathering him up in her arms. “The lettuce wasn’t so badly hurt, after all.”