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The coulee was a sheltered nook when bitter winds swept the higher grounds above; it was cool when scorching heat yellowed the grasses of the plain. 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. Ebenezer Wopp sat at the head of the table. Beaming from behind a promising array of cups and saucers, his portly wife presented a countenance of aggressive hospitality. In height and girth Mrs. Wopp had much the advantage of her husband..
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“Here, slow-pokes, drop yer carrots in this here bin.” He indicated an empty oat-bin. “I’ll help a lot. You shan’t have a bit more trouble, sister; nor mamma, either.” He began to distribute the plates with noisy clatter. “Now you’re Fair Ellen and I’m defending you at Goblin Cave!” He thrust her behind him, held her tight with one arm, while he flourished the carving knife and called on Clan Alpine’s foes to appear. “Oh, no, no! I’m fit—I must find her myself—right now!”.
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