A lot of very young chickens, little yellow balls of down, were running about outside the coop.

Young Grumpy strolled over.

The chickens did not concern him in the least.

He didn't know what they were, and, as no flesh was in his eyes good to eat, he didn't care.

But he hoped they might have such a thing as a carrot about them." "Oh-h-h! What would _they_ have a carrot for ?" protested the Babe.
Uncle Andy scorned to notice this remark.