As Turkey Proudfoot faced the six geese in the farmyard he began to feel that he had made a great mistake in speaking to them. Their hisses were far from agreeable. They were even threatening.

"This will never do," Turkey Proudfoot muttered to himself. "No doubt I could whip all six of them; but they'd be likely to pull some of my tail feathers out. And I don't want my tail spoiled." For a moment or two he didn't know what to do. But suddenly an idea popped into his head.

"Follow me!" he ordered the geese.p. 21 And wheeling about, he marched off across the farmyard.

The geese waddled after him.

Perched on top of a wagon wheel in front of the barn, the rooster saw the odd procession. And he gave voice loudly to his delight.

"The geese are chasing Turkey Proudfoot!" he crowed. He called to everybody to hurry and see the fun. And all the hens came a-running.

"Nonsense!" said Turkey Proudfoot. "I ordered the geese to follow me. They're simply obeying orders." And he strutted, a little faster than usual, toward the tree near the farmhouse where he roosted every night.

"Halt!" he cried to the geese when they reached the tree. As he spoke, Turkey Proudfoot flapped himself up and settled on a low branch. At last he felt safe.p. 22 He knew that the geese wouldn't follow him up there. With their webbed feet they never roosted in trees.

Meanwhile the hen turkeys had come a-running too, from the meadow. They wanted to see what was going on. And they promptly fell into a loud dispute with the rooster and the hens.

"He did!" the hens cackled, meaning that Turkey Proudfoot had run away from the geese.

"He didn't!" the hen turkeys squalled, meaning that Turkey Proudfoot hadn't been chased, but had led the geese across the farmyard.

The six geese took no part in the quarrel. They had driven Turkey Proudfoot into the tree. And knowing that he wouldn't come down so long as they waited there, they marched off in single file toward the duck pond.

p. 23

"Where are you going?" the rooster asked them.

The leader of the geese turned her head at him and hissed. And her five companions turned their heads at him too, and hissed likewise.

"I ordered them to go and have a swim," Turkey Proudfoot cried from his tree, as soon as the geese were out of hearing. "I don't want them about the farmyard. I haven't time to bother with them. Besides, they're so stupid that I never could teach them anything. I walked ahead of them, across the farmyard, to show them the stylish strut. But they couldn't learn it. They'll waddle to the end of their days."

"There!" cried the hen turkeys to the hens. "You hear what he says. The geese weren't chasing him. He was trying to teach them to strut."

p. 24

"Huh!" exclaimed Henrietta Hen, who always spoke her mind right out. "Turkey Proudfoot had better be careful. Some day those geese will teach him how to waddle."

p. 25