At last the old black hen in the barnyard hatched out a chick. Grandmother was delighted.
"See, Grandpa," she said, "now we have a chick of our own!"
But Grandfather shook his head doubtfully.
"I don't like the looks of that chick. There's something strange about it."
But Grandmother wouldn't listen. To her the chick seemed everything it should be. She called it Kuratko and petted it and pampered it as though it were an only child.
Kuratko grew apace and soon he developed an awful appetite.
"Cockadoodledoo!" he shouted at all hours of the day. "I'm hungry! Give me something to eat!"
"You mustn't feed that chick so much!" Grandfather grumbled. "He's eating us out of house and home."
But Grandmother wouldn't listen. She fed Kuratko and fed him until sure enough there came a day when there was nothing left for herself and the old man.
That was a nice how-do-you-do! Grandmother sat working at her spinning-wheel trying to forget that she was hungry, and Grandfather sat on his stool nearby too cross to speak to her.