TURKEY TIM
Turkey Tim in his red-colored comb strutted about the Old Farmyard, spreading his tail like a Japanese fan to the bright light that Mr. Merry Sun sent down from the Big Blue Sky.
"I wonder what makes Turkey Tim so proud?" asked Henny Penny.
Little Jack Rabbit wiggled his pink nose, but said nothing.
"Is it because the Kind Farmer is buying chestnuts for him from Chippy Chipmunk?"
Still the little rabbit made no reply.
"Please tell me," begged Henny Penny. "You can whisper in my ear."
"Turkey Tim thinks the Kind Farmer is fond of him, but that's not the reason," answered the little rabbit.
"What is the reason?" asked Henny Penny, who you see by this time was a very curious little hen.
"Turkey Tim wouldn't believe me if I told him," said the little rabbit.
"Wouldn't he?" exclaimed the little hen, her feathers ruffled with excitement and curiosity.
"It's a big secret," whispered the little bunny.
"Tell me quick," coaxed Henny Penny.
"Thanksgiving!" whispered Little Jack Rabbit. "Haven't you heard of chestnut-fed turkeys for Thanksgiving?"
"Do you mean they are going to kill Turkey Tim?" cried the little hen.
"I certainly do," answered the little rabbit. "But he's so proud he wouldn't believe me. Why, he thinks he's more wonderful than Cocky Doodle."
"Well, he isn't," said Henny Penny. "Cocky Doodle's the most wonderful of all the Feathered Folk, for he's the one who wakes up Mr. Merry Sun. Cocky Doodle is the cock-a-doodle-do clock of the whole wide world. Why, if it weren't for him Mr. Merry Sun might stay in bed all day."
Just then along came Turkey Tim, but he didn't look so proud when the little hen told him about Thanksgiving.
"Who told you?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"Little Jack Rabbit," answered Henny Penny, pointing to the truthful little bunny.
"I guess I'll make a visit in the Friendly Forest," said Turkey Tim in a low voice, and off he went as fast as his legs would take him.
But, Oh dear me! No sooner was he there than Billy Breeze began to sing:
"Look out, look out for Danny
Fox!
He sneaks about in his woolen socks,
You never can tell where he is at,
For he creeps around like a tip-toe cat."
