“The Owl will have to bring his own dinner,” said the little boy, “but I will get him a piece of bread to eat with it.” So he did.
That night the little girl and boy drove home by moonlight from their grandmother’s farm. When they were in their own room they looked out of the window toward the corn-field. They saw the corn-shocks, like wigwams, with black shadows. They saw the tree dark against the sky. They saw the big round yellow moon rising above the ridge of the field. They saw the pumpkin table and pumpkin chairs. They saw, sitting on one chair, the Rabbit, with his ears sticking straight up as he ate his parsley and cabbage. They saw the Turtle, stretching his head out of his shell as he nibbled his mushroom. They saw the Owl on his chair, eating the dinner he had brought. “Oh, isn’t it beautiful!” said the little girl. “Beautiful!” said the little boy.
My bunnies like their cozy house, although they scamper out to play;
My chickens like the slatted coop where all the mother hens must stay.
My kitten likes her basket bed out in the woodshed near our door,
My puppy loves his cellar box; he sleeps and plays, then sleeps some more.
But I have got the nicest home. My house is better far than theirs;
Its windows let the sunshine in; it has a porch, it has some stairs.
But I like best the kitchen warm, with table, stove, and pantry neat;
The place where Dinah works, and makes good things for us to eat!
