"Ain't you going to ask your mother about the work-box?"
"No," replied Submit stoutly. "It's mine; my grandmother gave it to me."
Sarah reflected. "I know our turkey is the biggest," she said, looking lovingly at Thankful, as if to justify herself to her. "Well, I don't care," she added, finally.
"Will you?"
"Yes."
"When's yours going to be killed?"
"This afternoon."
"So's ours. Then we'll find out."
Sarah tucked Thankful closer under her shawl. "I know our turkey is biggest," said she. She looked very sober, although her voice was defiant. Just then the great turkey came swinging through the yard. He held up his head proudly and gobbled. His every feather stood out in the wind. He seemed enormous—a perfect giant among turkeys. "Look at him!" said Sarah, edging a little closer to the wall; she was rather afraid of him.
"He ain't half so big as ours," returned Submit, stoutly; but her heart sank. The Thompson turkey did look very large.