Before a week had gone by a thick down completely covered the big
hen. The good women, much wondering, imagined that as it grew
stronger the hair would change into feathers. Anxiously they
awaited the change. Nothing of the sort happened. The hair
remained hair--red, Titian red--fine and soft, curling round your
fingers, admirable in quality and colour.

The hair on the head, older than that on the rest of the body, was
much longer, which suggested to the mischievous Germaine the idea
of making her an elaborate headdress.

Nothing like it had ever been seen before.

Soon Yollande was able to discard some of her clothes. Her breast
and back required for a time yet a little covering, but this grew
gradually less and less.

Naturally the phenomenon was much discussed in the neighbourhood,
and it attracted many and delightful visitors to the farm, all of
whom Mother Etienne welcomed cordially. Yollande was less pleased
with this desire to inspect her. Generally some unbeliever would
tug at her hair, a painful experience for her. So, except towards
her mistress and Germaine, she had become exceedingly vindictive
and watchful. Every time she had the chance she pecked with her
short, stout beak at the person indiscreet enough to take such
liberties. One little visitor, more daring than the rest, nearly
lost his finger over it.

The fame of the curly-haired hen was tremendous, it spread even
beyond the limits of the district. It was really worth a journey