Hen! She felt quite bewildered and hardly knew where
to turn.

Her attention was sorely divided between her duty to her children and
her duty to the Wheat, for which she felt responsible.

So, again, in a very hopeful tone, she called out, "Who will thresh
the Wheat?"

But the Pig, with a grunt, said, "Not I,"
and the Cat, with a meow, said, "Not I," and
the Rat, with a squeak, said, "Not I."

So the Little Red Hen, looking, it must be admitted, rather
discouraged, said, "Well, I will, then."

And she did.

Of course, she had to feed her babies first, though, and when she had
gotten them all to sleep for their afternoon nap, she went out and
threshed the Wheat. Then she called out: "Who will carry the Wheat to
the mill to be ground?"

[Illustration: ]

Turning their backs with snippy glee,
that Pig said, "Not I,"

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration: ]

and that Cat said, "Not I," and that Rat said, "Not I."

[Illustration]

So the good Little Red Hen could do nothing but say, "I will then."
And she did.

Carrying the sack of Wheat, she trudged off to the distant mill. There
she ordered the Wheat ground into beautiful white flour. When the
miller brought her the flour she walked slowly back all the way to her
own barnyard in her own picketty-pecketty fashion.

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration: ]

She even managed, in spite of her load, to catch a nice juicy worm now
and then and had one left for the babies when she reached them. Those
cunning little fluff-balls were _so_ glad to see their mother. For the
first time, they really appreciated her.

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration:]

After this really strenuous day Mrs. Hen retired to her slumbers
earlier than usual--indeed, before the colors came into the sky to
herald the setting of the sun, her usual bedtime hour.

She would have liked to sleep late in the morning, but her chicks,
joining in the morning chorus of the hen yard, drove away all hopes of
such a luxury.

Even as she sleepily half opened one eye, the thought came to her that
to-day that Wheat must, somehow, be made into bread.

[Illustration]

She was not in the habit of making bread, although, of course, anyone
can make it if he or she follows the recipe with care, and she knew
perfectly well that she could do it if necessary.

So after her children were fed and made sweet and fresh for the day,
she hunted up the Pig,