Then there was no place to swim but in a muddy little duck-pond that almost dried up in the heat of summer.
But the worst thing of all at the farmhouse was the way the farmer’s wife used to steal the duck’s eggs. No matter how carefully Mrs. Duck hid her eggs, Mrs. Farmer always found them and took them away. Once she put a number of them in a hen’s nest, and allowed a hen to set on them. After a while the hen hatched out eleven of the cunningest, fuzziest, yellowest ducklings that ever were seen. The hen was just as pleased and proud as though she had laid the eggs herself. But she didn’t in the least know how to bring up a brood of ducklings. Mrs. Duck could see that very plainly. She didn’t even want them to get their feet wet and she almost had a fit when they went into the water one day.
She pointed with her wing to a farmhouse in the distance
After that Mrs. Duck made up her mind she would not stay at the farm any longer. She started off into the wide world early one morning without saying anything to any one, and waddled on and on and on until after a while she came to the hollow tree beside the river.
Here she made a nest and hatched out a little brood for herself, and brought them up the way young ducklings should be brought up, and was very happy.
II
THERE were six of the little ducklings, and their names, beginning with the eldest were, Squdge and Queek, Buff, Pin-Toes and Fluffy, and the littlest and cunningest one of all was named Curly Tail.