though she did make such a fuss about them!

The goslings could hunt for their breakfasts almost as well as their
mother, while little Red Hen had to scratch up every thing her children
ate. And as for the water--well, the chicks were simply not in it there!
They did not like to be in the water at all, but the goslings loved
their morning bath in the brook better than anything else in the whole
day.

Yes, her goslings were by far the finer babies! Mamma Goose swelled with
pride when she thought of it, and carefully smoothed her feathers. She
could have been perfectly happy except for just one thing. She was
afraid that before long something dreadful might happen to the goslings,
and once more she settled herself to think.

There was something wrong in the barnyard. What could it be that came
each night when every one was sound asleep? And what was it that carried
one of the chickens away each time so that, when the next morning came,
there was always one less than there had been the day before? Whatever
it was, it made no noise. Only, always the next morning some one was
missing, and usually it was a little baby chick that was gone. The worst
of it was that no one else knew any more about it than she did. To be
sure, little Bantam Rooster had said it was the hawk. But then Bantam
always thought he knew everything, and was almost always wrong, so that
nobody ever believed anything he said.

Besides, if it had been, the big white cock would have known it, for the
big white cock knew everything. He was the king of the barnyard, and
took care of them all. He had a bright red comb and beautiful, long,
green tail-feathers, and Mamma Goose thought him the most wonderful