beak. Of course he would run off howling and frightened to death.
It was very funny to watch.

Mother Etienne and Germaine were much amused at these little
comedies, and whenever visitors came to the farm they would try to
provoke one. Everyone enjoyed them hugely.

Germaine treated Yollande like a doll. She made her all sorts of
fashionable clothes. The Cochin-China would be dressed sometimes
like a man, sometimes like a woman. She had made her quite a
collection of little trousers and vests, which had style, I can
tell you. She had copied, too, from a circus she had seen, an
English clown's costume which was most becoming. Nothing could be
funnier than to watch this tiny dwarf, to see her strut, jump,
dance, coming and going, skipping around suddenly,--one moment
skittish, the next very important.

Petit-Jacques loved to tease her, but not roughly; he would push
her with his foot, and make her jump at him impatiently, looking
perfectly ridiculous in her quaint dress. You could have sworn she
was a miniature clown. Add to all this, the queer inarticulate
sounds she made when she was angry, and even then you can have no
idea how very amusing these pantomimes were.

Soon the fame of Yollande spread far and wide. She became
celebrated throughout the district. Instead of asking Mother
Etienne how _she_ was, people asked:

"How's your hen today, Mother Etienne?"