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“O, that chestnut!” scornfully ejaculated Isobel. “Y-yes, b-but how can I when I have no one to say ‘mama’ to, only a Mrs.” Her breakfast finished, Betty sought the company of Moses, who was in a small shed adjoining the kitchen. He was piling some fire-wood he had carried in from the yard..

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Max was the first to be quite ready with his exhibit. It was a queer creature that one gradually discovered to be some sort of a bird; though such a one had never before been seen on land or sea. Max had arrayed his mother’s big white gander for the occasion. A turkey-tail fan made a huge breastplate, if one can imagine a breastplate of feathers. All the long-tailed roosters that had been killed in town for months, one would guess, had contributed to the coat of sprawling feathers that was tied over the body of the bird. And no one knew by what magic the boy had coaxed some one to lend him the magnificent peacock plumes that rose high above the little wiggling goose tail. “You keep still, Betsey! I’m going to watch!” he exclaimed, as if some one had spoken. “By heck!” he thundered. “Sure! Take care of the truck, will you?” He dropped his burdens to Jean’s willing hands, and darted forward..