hatch into little baby
, and they do have wings, like the hen. I saw them this morning running after her, with all their wings stretched out. I suppose they are not old enough to fly yet. When my babies can fly, I shall go back to the flower garden.”
She flew away, leaving the astonished
still sitting in the middle of her
trying to understand it all.
“Well!” she exclaimed to herself at last. “That’s what comes of having no mother! I always did say that the family arrangements of the
