"'Cause a hen's got it."
"A hen's got my ball?" asked Bunny, much surprised.
"Yep," said Sue, shaking her head up and down to make Bunny understand. "The ball is right by the hen, and she's got her bill on it. I dassn't pick it up, 'cause she'll peck me."
Bunny ran to where Sue stood. Surely enough, the ball had rolled under the edge of the currant bush, close to where a big hen was all cuddled up in a heap. And the hen did have her bill on the ball with which the children had been playing.
"Why—why that hen is on a nest!" exclaimed Bunny. "I guess grandma doesn't know there's a hen's nest out here. We'll go and tell her."
"But aren't you going to take your ball?" asked Sue. "Maybe the hen will eat it if you don't."
"Hen's can't eat balls," said Bunny. "The ball is too big for them to swaller."
"Well, anyhow, they could pick holes in it, and then we couldn't play with it any more."
"That's so," agreed Bunny. "I'll see if I can get it away from her."
But when Bunny crept under the currant bush, and reached for his ball, the hen made a funny clucking noise, ruffled up her feathers and looked so angry, that Bunny was afraid.