Ozma of Oz | Page 4

a warm climate and she did not feel at all cold.

So she sat down in a corner of the coop, leaned her back against the
slats, nodded at the friendly stars before she closed her eyes, and was
asleep in half a minute.

2. The Yellow Hen
A strange noise awoke Dorothy, who opened her eyes to find that day
had dawned and the sun was shining brightly in a clear sky. She had
been dreaming that she was back in Kansas again, and playing in the
old barn-yard with the calves and pigs and chickens all around her; and
at first, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she really imagined she
was there.
"Kut-kut-kut, ka-daw-kut! Kut-kut-kut, ka-daw-kut!"
Ah; here again was the strange noise that had awakened her. Surely it
was a hen cackling! But her wide-open eyes first saw, through the slats
of the coop, the blue waves of the ocean, now calm and placid, and her
thoughts flew back to the past night, so full of danger and discomfort.
Also she began to remember that she was a waif of the storm, adrift
upon a treacherous and unknown sea.
"Kut-kut-kut, ka-daw-w-w--kut!"
"What's that?" cried Dorothy, starting to her feet.
"Why, I've just laid an egg, that's all," replied a small, but sharp and
distinct voice, and looking around her the little girl discovered a yellow
hen squatting in the opposite corner of the coop.
"Dear me!" she exclaimed, in surprise; "have YOU been here all night,
too?"
"Of course," answered the hen, fluttering her wings and yawning.
"When the coop blew away from the ship I clung fast to this corner,
with claws and beak, for I knew if I fell into the water I'd surely be
drowned. Indeed, I nearly drowned, as it was, with all that water

washing over me. I never was so wet before in my life!"
"Yes," agreed Dorothy, "it was pretty wet, for a time, I know. But do
you feel comfor'ble now?"
"Not very. The sun has helped to dry my feathers, as it has your dress,
and I feel better since I laid my morning egg. But what's to become of
us, I should like to know, afloat on this big pond?"
"I'd like to know that, too," said Dorothy. "But, tell me; how does it
happen that you are able to talk? I thought hens could only cluck and
cackle."
"Why, as for that," answered the yellow hen thoughtfully, "I've clucked
and cackled all my life, and never spoken a word before this morning,
that I can remember. But when you asked a question, a minute ago, it
seemed the most natural thing in the world to answer you. So I spoke,
and I seem to keep on speaking, just as you and other human beings do.
Strange, isn't it?"
"Very," replied Dorothy. "If we were in the Land of Oz, I wouldn't
think it so queer, because many of the animals can talk in that fairy
country. But out here in the ocean must be a good long way from Oz."
"How is my grammar?" asked the yellow hen, anxiously. "Do I speak
quite properly, in your judgment?"
"Yes," said Dorothy, "you do very well, for a beginner."
"I'm glad to know that," continued the yellow hen, in a confidential
tone; "because, if one is going to talk, it's best to talk correctly. The red
rooster has often said that my cluck and my cackle were quite perfect;
and now it's a comfort to know I am talking properly."
"I'm beginning to get hungry," remarked Dorothy. "It's breakfast time;
but there's no breakfast."
"You may have my egg," said the yellow hen. "I don't care for it, you

know."
"Don't you want to hatch it?" asked the little girl, in surprise.
"No, indeed; I never care to hatch eggs unless I've a nice snug nest, in
some quiet place, with a baker's dozen of eggs under me. That's thirteen,
you know, and it's a lucky number for hens. So you may as well eat this
egg."
"Oh, I couldn't POSS'BLY eat it, unless it was cooked," exclaimed
Dorothy. "But I'm much obliged for your kindness, just the same."
"Don't mention it, my dear," answered the hen, calmly, and began
preening her feathers.
For a moment Dorothy stood looking out over the wide sea. She was
still thinking of the egg, though; so presently she asked:
"Why do you lay eggs, when you don't expect to hatch them?"
"It's a habit I have," replied the yellow hen. "It has always been my
pride to lay a fresh egg every morning, except when I'm moulting. I
never feel like having my morning cackle till the egg is properly laid,
and without the chance to cackle I would not