advanced age, she kicked up her
heels and galloped clumsily over the hummocky hillside, quite like a
frisky calf.

For just a moment or two she was tempted to jump the fence, she felt so
gay. But luckily she remembered, before it was too late, that if she
left the pasture she would probably have to wear the poke all the rest
of that summer. And she decided it was worth her while to behave
herself.

So she stopped running--for that was just a temptation to jump; and she
began to pull at choice clumps of clover with her long tongue. Then,
feeling thirsty, she went to the brook, where it flowed into the mill
pond, to get a drink.

She splashed down into the water, not caring at all because she wet her
feet. In fact, she liked the feeling of the cool water. She had stuck
her nose into the brook and had drunk several great swallows when a
squeaky sort of voice cried, "Stop that!"

The Muley Cow lifted her head and stared all around, while drops of
water trickled off her muzzle and fell back into the stream.

At first she couldn't see anybody. And then the voice called again,
"Stop that! You'll drain our pond dry if you drink so much of our
water."

Then the Muley Cow saw who was speaking. It was Paddy Muskrat. With his
wife he had crept out on some stones a little way off. And there they
stood, chattering and waving their paws at the Muley Cow.

"Go away!" Mrs. Muskrat shrieked. "We don't want you here."

Just then the Muley Cow noticed a big frog who sat on the bank of the
brook and grinned at her. "What would you do if you were I?" she asked
him.

Ferdinand Frog (for it was he) said nothing for a few seconds, but
wrinkled his low brow; for he was thinking deeply.

"I believe I'd carry a parasol if I were you," he said at last. "It's a
hot day and I believe you'd enjoy the shade."

The Muley Cow was puzzled. She couldn't see that Mr. Frog's answer had
anything to do with the case. But Paddy Muskrat exclaimed at once that
Mr. Frog had hit on the very thing.

"Go get your parasol at once!" Paddy cried. "You're liable to have a
sunstroke."

"But I haven't a parasol," she objected.

"Then borrow one from Farmer Green's wife," said Mrs. Paddy. "To be
sure, I don't believe in borrowing--as a rule. But it's different when
somebody's in danger of a sunstroke."

Now, the Muley Cow began to feel very queer. She had never had a
sunstroke; she had never even heard of one. But they sounded quite
dreadful. So she cli