Quon Wo knew what she wanted. He had promised her some nice fresh ducks’ eggs; and there they were, under the seat of the cart in a pretty tea-chest.
“Duckee! Duckee!” said Quon Wo. “Duckee heap good!” and counted out the eggs into her pan, twelve of them, and then drove away.
The boys would have run after him, but Jimmy happened to remember why the ducks’ eggs had been spoken for. John wanted to put them under a hen, to be hatched into ducklings. And here came John, carrying in his arms a white hen, squawking angrily.
“Oh, yes, you must, Polly White; yes, you must!” said John. “You’ve been wanting to for a good while, and now we’re ready for you. Come, Vendla, bring on your ducks’ eggs.”
Vendla went to the stable with the pan; the little boys, the dog Punch and his friend Toby, Mrs. Porter’s dog, close at her heels. After the eggs had been put in a nice nest of straw, John placed Mrs. White over them, covering her up with a basket.
“Now stay there,” said John, “and see how you like it.”
Polly was very young, and had never sat on any eggs before. She had thought it would be good fun; but when the basket was put over her, she felt as if she should fly. It was not pleasant to be shut up in the dark.
“How long will she have to stay?” asked Gilbert.