“Mrs. Blue Hen was so proud of her new, white egg that she went back after awhile to look at it. There it was, shining white in the grass. She covered it up and hid it as well as she could, and then she went about getting dinner ready.
“The next morning she went to the nest and laid another egg just like the first one. This happened for three mornings; but on the fourth morning, when Mrs. Blue Hen went back, she found four eggs in the nest, and all four appeared to be dingy and muddy looking. She was very much astonished and alarmed, as well she might be, for here right before her eyes she saw four eggs, when she knew in reason that there should be but three; and not only that, they were all dingy and dirty.
“Mrs. Blue Hen was so excited that she took off her bonnet and began to fan herself. Then she wondered whether she had not made a miscount; whether she had not really laid four instead of three eggs. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. She hung her bonnet on a blackberry bush and tried to count off the days on her toes. She began to count,—’One, two, three,’—and she would have stopped there, but she couldn’t. She had four toes on her foot, and she was compelled to count them all. There was a toe on the foot for every egg in the nest.
“This caused Mrs. Blue Hen to feel somewhat more comfortable in mind and body, but she was left in such a hysterical state that she went off cackling nervously, and postponed laying an egg until late in the afternoon. After that there were five in the nest, and she kept on laying until there were ten altogether. Then Mrs. Blue Hen rumpled up her feathers and got mad with herself, and went to setting. I reckon that’s what you call it. I’ve heard some call it ‘setting’ and others ‘sitting.’ Once, when I was courting, I spoke of a sitting hen, but the young lady said I was too prissy for anything.”
“What is prissy?” asked Sweetest Susan.
Mr. Rabbit shut his eyes and scratched his ear. Then he shook his head slowly.
“It’s nothing but a girl’s word,” remarked Mrs. Meadows by way of explanation. “It means that somebody’s trying hard to show off.”
“I reckon that’s so,” said Mr. Rabbit, opening his eyes. He appeared to be much relieved. “Well, Mrs. Blue Hen got mad and went to setting. She was in a snug place and nobody bothered her. It was such a quiet place that she could hear Mr. Willy Weasel and Miss Mimy Mink gossiping in the calamus bushes, and she could hear Mrs. Puddle Duck wading in the branch. One day Mrs. Puddle Duck made so bold as to push her way through the briars and look in upon Mrs. Blue Hen. But her visit was not relished. Mrs. Blue Hen rumpled her feathers up and spread out her tail to such a degree and squalled out such a harsh protest that Mrs. Puddle Duck was glad to waddle off with whole bones. But when she got back to the branch she spluttered about a good deal, crying out:
“‘Aha! aha! quack, quack! Aha! You are there, are you? Aha! you’ll have trouble before you get away. Aha!’
“Now the fact was that Mrs. Puddle Duck was the very one that had caused Mrs. Blue Hen all the trouble,” said Mr. Rabbit, nodding his head solemnly. “While wading in the branch, Mrs. Puddle Duck had seen Mrs. Blue Hen going to her nest for three days, slipping and creeping through the weeds and bushes, and she wanted to know what all the slipping and creeping was about. So, on the third day Mrs. Puddle Duck did some slipping and creeping on her own account. She crept up close enough to see Mrs. Blue Hen on her nest, and she was near enough to see Mrs. Blue Hen when she ran away cackling.