“Why, Sam,” said his grandmother, “what do you mean?”
“I don’t like the looks of those legs,” said Sam in the same decided manner.
“What is the matter with them?” asked Mr. Spear, greatly amused at the little boy’s grown-up air.
“I don’t like the color of them,” persisted Sam.
“Why, what color do you expect them to be?” asked Mr. Spear, trying to keep from smiling. “I don’t know what other color they could very well be.”
“Oh, yes, they could!” replied Sam, shrewdly. “I want a turkey with yellow legs, because they are the best.”
“I don’t know as I ever saw a turkey with yellow legs,” replied Mr. Spear, gravely. “If I had one, I would give it to you.”
“Why, Sam,” said Grandmamma, who had been greatly amused at the conversation, “what made you ask for a turkey with yellow legs? They are always lead-color, like this one.”
“Grandpapa always asks for yellow-legged ones. He says the blue-legged ones are not fit to eat,” replied Sam, “and you know that Grandpapa is very particular.”
“I guess he’s thinking of chickens,” said Mr. Spear, “and has got ’em kind of mixed up with turkeys in his mind.”