"Nonsense!" John Fairmeadow declared; "it hasn't a tooth in its head." He added, with one eye closed, and palms lifted: "But—aha!—just you wait and see."
"Well," Pattie Batch drawled, "I th'pose it'th a turkey. It'th thertainly thomethin' t' eat," she declared.
"Good enough to eat, I bet you!" John Fairmeadow agreed, with the air of having concealed in that veritable big basket the sweetest morsel in all the world.
"Ith it a chicken?"
"Nonsense!" said John Fairmeadow; "it's fa-a-a-ar more delicious than chicken. Hi, there, Poll Pry!" he roared, and just in time; "keep your hands off."
"Is it anything for the house?"
"No, indeed; the house is for it."
Pattie Batch scowled in perplexity.
"The back yard, too," John Fairmeadow added; "and don't you forget that this whole place—and all the world—belongs to just what's in that basket."
"I'm sure," poor Pattie Batch mused, scratching her curls in bewilderment, "I can't guess what it could be."