"No."
"But we keep chickens ourselves, Gail! I'll kill one for you if it's just 'cause you can't chop its head off."
A smile flashed across Gail's sweet, care-worn face. "It isn't that, dear. We can't spare any. All our extra roosters we used for broth when—"
"Yes, I know," interrupted the smaller sister hastily. "But haven't we got a tough old hen that isn't good for anything else?"
Again Gail smiled, but answered patiently, "I am afraid not, Peace. All our hens are laying now, and eggs mean money. We can't afford to kill them."
"Can't we buy one?"
"There is no money."
"Have you used up all we made selling flowers?"
"That went long ago."
"And the bill we found in the barn?"