“So she was,” declared Polly; “wait, and you’ll see what happened. Well, she went on, and on, and talked, and talked, about how the chicken was to be baked in pieces in a pie, and all that.
“‘I’ve seen ’em!’ she said with the air of one who knew everything. ‘Year after year, hens and chickens, yes, and geese, stepping around in the morning, oh! so happy and smart; and then at evening they would go past here to market, all stiff and stark, with their heads off and Mr. Brown’s boy holding them by their legs! All for pies, and so that people may eat themselves sick; and they call it a Thanksgiving!’
“Oh, how the chicken shook! It seemed as if it would fall off from its perch; but it was very dark, so the old goose didn’t notice it. Shanghai wouldn’t for all the world have had her; so he controlled himself, and, being a brave little fellow, he stopped the beating of his heart, and he spoke up loud:—
“‘Well, why weren’t you baked in a pie, then, along with the others?’
“‘What!—why—well—’ stammered the goose, ‘they were going to kill me time and again,—but—well, the fact is, they thought so much of me they couldn’t bear to.’ In spite of its fright, the chicken couldn’t help laughing softly to itself.
“‘Well, come, you’d better go to bed!’ crossly snapped the goose; ‘they’ll come for you bright and early in the morning. I heard ’em saying so.’
“‘Well! then I say,’ declared the chicken, drawing himself up on his long legs till he looked, oh, so tall! ‘they won’t find me here; that’s all I’ve got to say!’
“‘Why, where will you go?’ demanded the goose, seeing that she had gone too far in the desire to make the poor little chicken as unhappy as possible.
“‘Oh, I’m going to set out for my own fortune!’ gayly replied the chicken. ‘At any rate, it can’t be any worse than to be baked in a pie. I think I see myself staying here for that! No; good-night, Mrs. Goose. Thank you for all your kindness; I’m off!’
“‘Yes! and be stuck in a bog for your pains!’ scornfully hissed the old goose, seeing it was useless to advise or to urge further; but the chicken’s long legs were going at a pretty smart pace down the hill, and it was soon out of sight, and it was never seen by any of us in The Little Brown House again.”