"There was that Fourth-o'-July trick he played on the mother of the seven kids," suggested Ringling.
"Oh, yes. That was mean too; she's so good. She bakes us cookies sometimes and then she gives the old goat some. She's always good to him and nobody likes him either."
"What was the trick?"
"He took torpedoes and put them all down the path at the Mother Goat's. It was a gravel path, and she thought the torpedoes were just part of it. Fourth-o'-July morning she came out to get a pail of water and when she struck a torpedo with her hard hoof it went off, bang! It scared her so she jumped up in the air, and when she came down it was on some more torpedoes. Bang! bang! they went. Every time she made a leap and came down some more torpedoes went off. Mother Goat was so scared she went to bed for all the rest of the day, and it was Fourth-o'-July, too. I just wish we could drive him away."
"So do we," cried all the other pigs. "Then we'd be happy. He's just an ugly old baldhead, anyway."
"I never saw a bald goat," said Ellen.
"His master shaved him," said Ringling, "he was so bad."
"Why? What did he do?"
"Well, his master had three sons, and he sent them one at a time to take the goat out to pasture. Every time before the boy brought the goat home he would ask, 'Goat, have you had enough?' And the goat would answer:
"'I am satisfied quite;
No more can I bite.'