"Now don't yo'all get to thinking of such foolishness as eggs," she commanded. "It isn't safe to be snooping around Farmer Brown's hen-house when there's snow on the ground. Yo' just fo'get all about eggs! Do yo' hear what Ah say?"
Unc' Billy nodded that he did. But just the same he couldn't think of anything else. He knew that old Mrs. Possum was right, and that it wasn't safe to go fooling around Farmer Brown's hen-house and leaving his tracks for everybody who came along to see. Just the same, Unc' Billy felt that he had got to have a nice fresh egg. He had got to have it. That is all there was about it.
As soon as jolly, round, red Mr. Sun had gone to bed behind the Purple Hills that night, Unc' Billy crept out of his home in the hollow tree.
"Where are yo' going?" demanded Mrs. Possum.
"Just to stretch the kinks out of mah legs," replied Unc' Billy.
Old Mrs. Possum looked after him suspiciously. "Don't yo' go fo' to do any foolishness!" she called.
Unc' Billy didn't answer. He was on his way to Farmer Brown's hen-house.