The Tale of Turkey Proudfoot | Page 7

wouldn't get himself into a scrape. But he thought it more polite not to say exactly what he hoped.
Turkey Proudfoot stalked up to the farmhouse and stopped near the piazza. He was gazing upwards and measuring the height of the roof with his eye when all at once a loud "Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!" almost tipped him over backward.
The outcry came from the farmhouse. There was no doubt of that. But it didn't come from the roof, nor the chimney.
Turkey Proudfoot stared at the windows and the doors and saw no one except Miss Kitty Cat, dozing on a window sill. Then something moved beneath the piazza ceiling. It was a cage, which swayed as a green figure clung to the wires on one side of it.
"I'm a handsome bird," a voice informed Turkey Proudfoot. "Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!"
For once in his life Turkey Proudfoot hadn't a word to say. For the moment he was struck dumb.
At last he found his voice. "Who are you?" he bellowed.
"Ha! ha! ha! ha!"
"Don't laugh at me!" cried Turkey Proudfoot.
"Polly wants a cracker," said the green bird.
A few quick steps brought Turkey Proudfoot upon the piazza, nearer the cage where the annoying green person swung and made queer, throaty noises--sounds which only angered Turkey Proud foot the more.
Turkey Proudfoot took a little run and rose into the air, to crash against the cage and then fall flapping upon the piazza floor.
The green person shrieked. And the hired man, with an axe in his hand, peered out of the woodshed door.
"Here, you old gobbler! You leave our Polly alone!" he called. And he ran out and gave Turkey Proudfoot a sharp rap with the axe helve.
Turkey Proudfoot ran off and hid behind the barn and sulked.
"There's a bird around here," he muttered, "that mocks Miss Kitty Cat; and they call him a Cat Bird. Now, here's a bird that mocks me; so I should think they'd call him a Turkey Bird. But they don't. I heard the hired man call him Pretty Polly.
"Pretty Polly indeed!" Turkey Proudfoot sniffed. "That creature is nothing but a bunch of green feathers and a loud voice."

X
THE WORM TURNS
Henrietta Hen had no love for Turkey Proudfoot. Beginning with the days of her chickenhood he had always ordered her about, telling her not to do this and not to do that. Even after she was grown up and had a family of her own, Turkey Proudfoot treated her as if she had just begun to scratch for herself.
If Henrietta Hen found a spot where somebody had spilled a few kernels of corn Turkey Proudfoot was more than likely to rush up to her and cry, "Go away! I've had my eye on that corn for some time. I saw it first."
On such occasions there was nothing Henrietta Hen could do except to stand aside and look on while Turkey Proudfoot ate the corn. He was so much bigger than she that he could bowl her over easily.
On her own account Henrietta didn't really think it worth while to try to make any trouble for Turkey Proudfoot. But when she led her first brood of chicks into the yard to teach them to find food for themselves, Turkey Proudfoot's lordly ways made her very angry.
"Move your family over on the gravel drive!" Turkey Proudfoot ordered her.
Henrietta Hen said flatly that she wouldn't.
"There are no bugs--no worms--in the gravel," she told him. "My chicks have a right to go anywhere on this farm."
Turkey Proudfoot looked at her in amazement. Never before had Henrietta Hen spoken to him in such a way.
"Hoity-toity!" he exclaimed. "Aren't you forgetting your manners, Henrietta?"
"No, I'm not!" she snapped. "I've stood too much from you all my life. I warn you now that the worm has turned."
Turkey Proudfoot glanced quickly down at the ground.
"Where's the worm?" he asked. "Point him out to me before he gets away."
"There!" cried Henrietta Hen. "That's just like you. If anybody spies a worm, you think you ought to have it."
"Come! come!" Turkey Proudfoot coaxed her. "Don't let's quarrel over a mere trifle such as a worm. Just you show me where you saw him turn and I'll show you how to snatch a worm up in the neatest and quickest fashion."
Henrietta Hen tossed her handsome head.
"The worm I was talking about is right before you," she sniffed. "If you can't see it, I shan't help you."
Of course she had been talking of herself when she remarked that the worm had turned. She had meant that she had always allowed Turkey Proudfoot to treat her like a worm under his feet. But at last she had made up her mind that he shouldn't order her about any longer.
Meanwhile Turkey Proudfoot was fast losing his temper.
"You've caused me to lose a fine, fat worm; and