the Turkey Chicks were hatched, their mothers kept them out
of the Gobbler's way, because, you know, he did not like small children
and it was better that they should not meet.

The Hen Turkeys were very sorry for him, and often wished that he might
watch with them the growth of their piping darlings, to see the tiny
feathers push their way through the down and broaden and lengthen until
there was no down to be seen--only feathers. It was too bad; yet that
was the way in all Turkey families, and the Gobblers couldn't help
disliking the children any more than the Hen Turkeys could help wanting
to sit in the springtime.

By another year the Gobbler would love the young Turkeys dearly. Even
now he did not try to strike them, as he might have done a while before.
They were afraid of him, yet down in their hearts the brothers all
thought that when they were grown up they wanted to be just like him
and strut around with their wings trailing, their tails spread, their
necks drawn back, and their feathers ruffled. Then, they thought, when
other people came near them, they would puff and gobble and cry, "Get
out of my way!" They tried it once in a while to see how it would seem,
but they were still slender and their voices were not yet deep enough.
The sisters laughed at them when they did this, and that made them feel
very uncomfortable. The long, limp red wattles that grew out between
their eyes became redder and redder as they swung to and fro under their
short, thick bills.

"Just wait," said one young fellow to another. "Just you wait until I am
really grown up and strut before your sister next spring. I don't think
she will laugh at me then." And he comforted himself by eating fully
twice as much grain as he should have done.

The farmer's little girl came into the farmyard, and all the fowls
stopped eating to look at her. She was so young that she had never
before been out there alone. Her father had brought her in his arms, and
she had laughed with delight and clapped her little hands when the
farmyard people passed by her. Now she had slipped out of the house and
stood in the sunshine smiling at every one. She came without a cap, and
the wind blew her soft yellow curls around her rosy face. It fluttered
her red dress, too, and the Gobbler saw it and became exceedingly angry.

"Red-red-red!" he cried. "Why in the world did she wear red? I hate it!"
He stalked toward her in his most disagreeable way, and you could te