“My!” cried the duck. “Wasn’t that awful? What did Mr. Rooster say?”
“Why he said—”
Just then the duck noticed that all the little ones were standing about and listening with open beaks.
“Now, children, I am going to market,” she said
“Now, children, don’t stand there listening,” she cried. “You know I don’t like you to listen when older creatures are talking. Run on down to the river, and take these nice little chicks along with you—only don’t go in till I come. Perhaps you might catch them a tadpole or so.”
“Yes, run along,” said the hen. “We’ll be along in a minute. Be sure you don’t get your feet wet, children.”
That seemed to the ducklings a funny thing for any one to say—“Don’t get your feet wet,”—but they and the chicks started off together, and ran on gaily down the path toward the river, while the older fowls followed more slowly.
As soon as the little ones reached the river Squdge, who had taken a great fancy to a little chicken named Bright-Eyes, ran down to a shallow where the tadpoles lived, and caught a nice fat one, and brought it to her in his beak. Instead of taking it, however, Bright Eyes looked quite disgusted.