He pried open her excited little fingers; but the chicken
remained limp. Soon it became evident that she had squeezed the life from
it.
"Oh Peaches, you held it too tight!" wailed Mickey. "I'm afraid you've
made it sick!"
"I didn't mean to Mickey!" she protested.
Mrs. Harding reached over and picked the chicken from Mickey's fingers.
"That chicken wasn't very well to begin with," she said. "'You give it to
me, and I'll doctor it up, while you take another one. Which do you want?"
"Yellow," sniffed Peaches, "but please hurry, and Mickey, you hold this
one. Maybe I held too hard!"
"Yes you did," laughed Peter. "But we wanted to see what you'd do. One
little chicken is a small price for the show you give. It's all right,
Butterfly."
"Peter, you make everything all right, don't you?"
"Well honey, I would if I could," said Peter. "But that's something of a
contract. Now you rest till after dinner, and if Ma and Mickey agree on
it, we'll go see the meadow brook and hear the birds sing.
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