Henrietta Hen was waiting as patiently as she could for the fair to come to an end. She tried to close her ears to the boasts of her neighbors on either side of her, that they were going to win the first prize. She had heard too many unpleasant remarks about herself to have even the slightest hope of winning any prize at all—let alone the first.

"Anyhow, we'll be going home tonight," Henrietta said to herself. "And I'll never, never, never come to another fair. I'll go and hide 'way up high in the haymow where they can't find me before I'll spend another week in a place like this."

While she was muttering under her breath like that some men came up to her pen. And Henrietta Hen promptly squatted down in the furthest corner of it, hoping they wouldn't say anything disagreeable about her. She felt that she had already heard about all she could stand. She didn't even look at her callers. And soon they moved away.

Then Henrietta glanced up. She noticed something blue dangling from the front of her pen. And there was a greater commotion than ever on all sides of her.

"What is it?" she cried. "What has happened?"

Neighbor Number 1, on her right, shot a spiteful look at her.

"Those stupid judges!" she spluttered. "They've made a terrible blunder. They've gone and given you and your chicks the first prize. And of course it was meant for me and mine!"

"It wasn't!" screamed Neighbor Number 2 (on Henrietta's left). "That prize was intended for me and my children!"

"Who won second and third?" cried a noisy hen from across the way.

"They're both at the other end of the hall!" somebody shrieked.

"It's an outrage! It isn't fair! We've been cheated!" Henrietta Hen's nearest neighbors clamored. But nobody paid any attention to them.

As for Henrietta, she didn't quite know how to act. She had intended, when she left home, to do a good deal of strutting back and forth in her pen, with now and then a pause to preen herself, to make sure that she looked her best. But somehow she no longer cared to put on grand airs, as of old. She remembered that some of the other hens at the fair had been haughty and proud and had smoothed their feathers, declaring boldly that they expected to win the first prize.

Henrietta had heard it said that fine feathers don't make fine birds. And she knew at last what that meant. It meant that gay clothes and lofty ways and boastful talk were of no account at all.

So Henrietta tried to behave as if nothing unusual had happened. She told her chicks that they were going home that evening, and that she would be glad to be back on the farm again, among plain home-folks.

At last Johnnie Green and his father came to load Henrietta and her family into the wagon.

"Well," said the old horse Ebenezer to Henrietta. "Did you enjoy the races?"

"I didn't have a chance to see them," she replied.

"That's a pity," he told her. And then he asked her, "What's that blue tag hanging from your pen?"

"That—" said Henrietta—"that means that my chicks won the first prize."

"She helped win it herself," cried old dog Spot, who was yelping about the wagon. "Our little speckled hen was the best hen at the fair!"

"Nonsense!" Henrietta exclaimed. But, all the same, she couldn't help being pleased.

THE END

SLUMBER-TOWN TALES
(Trademark Registered.)
By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF THE
SLEEPY-TIME TALES and TUCK-ME-IN TALES
Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH

These are fascinating stories of farmyard folk for boys and girls from about four to eight years of age.

THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT

When Mrs. Rat saw Miss Kitty Cat washing her face, she knew it meant rain. And she wouldn't let her husband leave home without his umbrella.

THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN

Henrietta Hen was an empty-headed creature with strange notions. She never laid an egg without making a great fuss about it.

THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW

The Muley Cow belonged to Johnnie Green. He often milked her; and she seldom put her foot in the milk pail.

THE TALE OF TURKEY PROUDFOOT

A vain fellow was Turkey Proudfoot. He loved to strut about the farmyard and spread his tail, which he claimed was the most elegant one in the neighborhood.

THE TALE OF PONY TWINKLEHEELS

Pony Twinkleheels trotted so fast you could scarcely tell one foot from another. Everybody had to step lively to get out of his way.

THE TALE OF OLD DOG SPOT

Old dog Spot had a keen nose. He was always ready to chase the wild folk. And he always looked foolish when they got away from him.

THE TALE OF GRUNTY PIG

Grunty pig was a great trial to his mother. He found it hard not to put his feet right in the feeding trough at meal time.

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York.

SLUMBER-TOWN TALES
(Trademark Registered.)
By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF THE
SLEEPY-TIME TALES and TUCK-ME-IN TALES
Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH

This series of animal stories for children from three to eight years, tells of the adventures of the four-footed creatures of our American woods and fields in an amusing way, which delights small two-footed human beings.

THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR
THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL
THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX
THE TALE OF FATTY COON
THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK
THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT
THE TALE OF PETER MINK
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER
THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT
THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG
THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE
THE TALE OF TIMOTHY TURTLE
THE TALE OF BENNY BADGER
THE TALE OF MAJOR MONKEY
THE TALE OF GRUMPY WEASEL
THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE
THE TALE OF MASTER MEADOW MOUSE

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York