put
on airs, and it is a good-natured smile, too. They even feel rather
sorry for them when they lose their feathers, although the Nigh Ox once
said that if it were not for being plucked once in a while, the Geese
would really be too airy to live with.

Perhaps the Nigh Ox was right in what he said, for certainly after they
have worn their feathers all winter, they hold their heads higher than
ever, and tell what they think and what they would do, and it is well
they should be reminded that they work for a living like all their
neighbors. The farmer's wife never plucks the Geese until warm weather
comes. Then she takes all the soft, short feathers that they have worn
through the winter, and this leaves them looking very ragged indeed.
There was a time, years ago, when Geese had to give up their long
tail-and wing-feathers to be whittled into pens, but these Geese didn't
know about that, and there was nobody in the farmyard old enough to
remember it and tell them, so they thought they had a pretty hard time
in even giving up their breast feathers.

"Sssss!" the Gander used to say, "if the farmer's boys must have
feather pillows on which to lay their heads, why do they not grow their
own feathers?"

"Humph!" said the Nigh Ox once; "If you must have oats to eat, why don't
you grow the oats?" But the Gander was already waddling away and
pretended not to hear him.

It is in the winter that the Geese put on the most airs. Then, when the
Horses are being harnessed, they say to each other, "Dear me! Wouldn't
it be dreadful to work in that way for a living?" And sometimes, when
the team is hitched to a post by the farmhouse, they waddle past in a
single line with the Gander at the head, and say to the Horses: "Hear
you have to take a load of wood to town. It's too bad. Hope you won't
get very tired. We are going to the river for a nice cold swim.
Good-bye." Then they march off with their heads held high, and as soon
as their backs are turned, the Horses look at each other and laugh
softly. They know that there is nothing in the world better than good,
honest, hard work, no matter of what kind it is.

Every winter the Geese forget about having to be plucked, and every
spring they are surprised to lose their feathers. They are plucked four
times before fall comes, and these four times come so near together that
even they can remember from one to another. You would think that then
they would not be so airy, but instead of say