"it's a dreadful story!" said a hen, and she said it in a part of town, too, where it had not taken place. "it's a dreadful story to happen in a henhouse. i'm afraid to sleep alone tonight; it's a good thing there are many of us on the perch!" and then she told a story that made the feathers of the other hens stand on end and the rooster's comb fall. it's quite true!

but we will begin at the beginning and tell what had happened in a henhouse at the other end of town.

the sun went down, and the hens flew up. one of them was a white-feathered and short-limbed hen who laid her eggs according to the regulations and who was a respectable hen in every way. as she settled herself on the perch, she plucked herself with her beak, and a tiny feather came out.

"there it goes," she said. "no doubt the more i pluck, the more beautiful i will get." but she said it only in fun, for she was considered the jolliest among the hens, although, as we've said before, most respectable. then she fell asleep.

there was darkness all around, and the hens sat closely together. but the hen that sat closest to the white hen was not asleep; she had heard and had not heard, as one should do in this world, if one wishes to live in peace. but still she couldn't resist telling it to her nearest neighbor.

"did you hear what was said? well, i don't want to mention any names, but there is a hen here who intends to pluck out all her feathers just to make herself look well. if i were a rooster, i would despise her."

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