one, although she cried herself to sleep several nights before
Thanksgiving Day.

At last the day came, and Bessie, instead of going out to the
fowlyard as usual, kept in the house all the morning. She was
afraid that, if she went, she would not find her beloved friend.
Dinner-time came, and, with a heavy heart, she seated herself at
the table. Her uncle and aunt noticed her sober face, and thought
that she missed her father and mother.

"Come, come, said her uncle, "we must cheer up; no sad looks on
Thanksgiving Day. Maria, BRING IN THE TURKEY."

Poor Bessie! she could not look up as the door opened, and
something was brought in on a big platter. But, as the platter
was placed on the table, she saw that it did indeed hold her
turkey, but he was alive and well.

She looked so astonished that suddenly her uncle understood all
her past troubles.

"Why, Bessie," he said, "did you think I would kill your pet? No,
indeed, but I told you he should be on the table Thanksgiving
Day, so here he is."

Then Bessie's uncle struck the turkey gently with his
carving-knife, the way the queen strikes a man with a sword when
she makes him a knight.

"Behold!" said Bessie's uncle, "I dub you 'Sir Gobble;' you shall