ld drive them away before they had eaten it all. Eh, well! They ate
all they wanted, but one of the Pigs told me afterward that it made them
sick, and that he never wanted to see another sweet apple as long as he
lived. That was a hard storm, but not like this, not like this."

It had come in the night when the farmyard people were asleep, and there
was much scampering to shelter. The fowls, who were roosting in the old
apple-tree, did not have time to oil their feathers and make them
water-proof. They just flew off their perches as fast as they could and
ran for the open door of the Hen-house. When they were once inside, they
ruffled up their feathers and shook themselves to get rid of the
rain-drops. Fowls do not like wet weather, and it vexes them very much
to be in the rain. Their neighbors know this so well that it has become
their custom to say of an angry person that he is "as mad as a wet Hen."

The Cows were in their part of the barn with their necks between the
stanchions, so there was nothing for them to do but to keep still and
think of those who were out of doors. The Horses were in their
comfortable stalls. They had been working hard all day and the farmer
had gotten a good supper of oats ready for them in their mangers, so
that they could eat quickly and go to sleep, instead of staying awake
and walking around to get their own suppers in the pasture.

Out in the meadow the Sheep huddled close together under a low-branching
tree, and stood still until the storm passed. They had been so warm that
the cool rain made them comfortable, but the wind pushed them and swayed
the branches of the trees. The loud thunder made the Lambs jump. They
liked the lightning and made a game out of it, each one telling what he
had seen by the last flash. The clouds, too, were beautiful, and flew
across the sky like great dark birds with downy breasts, dropping now
and then shining worms from their beaks.

At last the air became cool and clear, and the clouds flew far away
toward the east. Next, the stars peeped out, first one, then two, then
six, then twenty, and then so many that you could not have counted
them,--more than the leaves on a maple-tree, more than the grass-blades
of the meadow. The Sheep ran around a little to shake off the rain-drops
and warm themselves, then they huddled down again to sleep.

When the sun arose in the eastern sky, his warm beams fell upon the
Sheep and awakened them. "How cool and beautiful