“Why, what makes you say that? How do you know what he planned?” inquired Mary Frances.
“I heard every word, every word,” said the rooster. “Of course you didn’t see me—I was peeping in the window.”
“Oh, Feather Flop!” cried Mary Frances. “Were you eaves-dropping?”
“I was listening,” acknowledged Feather Flop, “and I don’t approve of the plan at all.”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?” asked Mary Frances. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“It’s not sensible!” said Feather Flop. “It’s not useful!”
“But it seems perfect to me. How would you change it, Feather Flop?”
“Nobody can eat flowers!” exclaimed Feather Flop. “See here,” he looked over Mary Frances’ shoulder as she sat down on the bench, and pointed with his claw, “that plan fills the entire front yard with bloomin’ plants and gives only the little back yard for such things as taste good!”
“Dearie me! Dearie me!” laughed Mary Frances. “Is that it, Feather Flop? Why, don’t you love to see beautiful flowers?”