Young Master Meadow Mouse had often peeped at Turkey Proudfoot from behind a clump of grass, or a hill of corn. But he had never dared show himself to Turkey Proudfoot. Somehow the old gobbler looked terribly fierce. And he was so big that Master Meadow Mouse didn't like the idea of even saying "Good day!" to him. He had heard Turkey Proudfoot spoken of as a "gobbler." Who knew but that a gobbler would gobble up young Master Meadow Mouse if he had a chance?

Unseen by everybody, Master Meadow Mouse had watched the geese drive Turkeyp. 26 Proudfoot across the farmyard and seen him flapping up to roost in a tree out of their reach. And though Turkey Proudfoot strutted and tried to act very lordly as he headed the procession across the yard, Master Meadow Mouse had noticed how Turkey Proudfoot kept a wary eye on the geese behind him, and stepped not quite so high as he usually did, but further.

"Ho!" Master Meadow Mouse had piped to himself in his thin voice. "Turkey Proudfoot is not the brave fellow I always thought him. He's afraid of geese!"

From that moment Master Meadow Mouse forgot his fear of Turkey Proudfoot. Nobody stands in awe of a coward. So the very next time that Master Meadow Mouse saw Turkey Proudfoot strutting in the yard he crept up behindp. 27 Turkey Proudfoot and tried to walk exactly like him.

There were a good many farmyard fowls scratching about the yard at the time, and wishing to appear at his best, Turkey Proudfoot spread his tail, puffed out his chest, and strolled all around as if he—and and not Farmer Green—owned the place.

Although Turkey Proudfoot seemed to see none of his neighbors, nevertheless he was watching them carefully out of the corner of his eye, to see whether they were noticing him.

They were. There was no doubt of that.

Not only were they looking at him; they were laughing at him as well.

Turkey Proudfoot's face couldn't grow red with rage. It was red already. It was always red. Being very angry, he gobbled at the giggling hens, at the rooster,p. 28 even at old dog Spot, "Why are you laughing at me?"

"We aren't!" they cried. "You've no reason to be angry with us."

"'Tis well," said Turkey Proudfoot with a toplofty toss of his bald head. "Since you're not laughing at me, you needn't laugh at all. I don't like your sniggering."

"We can't help laughing," a few of the more daring ones told him. "It's so funny!"

"What is?"

"He is!"

"Who is?"

"Master Meadow Mouse!"

"Master Meadow Mouse!" repeated Turkey Proudfoot in a bewildered fashion.

He looked in front of him. He looked to the left. He looked to the right. Hep. 29 couldn't see Master Meadow Mouse anywhere.

"Look behind you!" cried Henrietta Hen.

Turkey Proudfoot turned his head.

"I don't see any Master Meadow Mouse," he grumbled.

"How can you, when your tail's spread like that?" Henrietta Hen asked him. "Close up your tail and then you'll see what we're laughing at."

But Turkey Proudfoot declined to do anything of the sort.

"It's just a trick," he squalled. "You're all jealous of me and my beautiful tail. You don't want me to carry my tail this way."

Behind Turkey Proudfoot's tail Master Meadow Mouse did a very naughty thing. He stuck out his tongue. And all the onlookers shrieked with merriment.

p. 30