half a mile away."

All this time Henrietta Hen hadn't said a word. At first she was too
surprised. And afterward she was too angry.

"Why don't you speak?" he demanded. He dearly loved a quarrel. And
somehow it wasn't much fun quarrelling with anybody when the other party
wouldn't say a word.

Still Henrietta Hen didn't open her mouth. She puzzled Mr. Crow. He even
forgot his rage (for it always made him angry if anybody but himself
scratched up any corn).

"What's the matter with you?" he asked. "What's the reason you don't
speak?"

"I'm too proud to talk with you," said Henrietta Hen. "I don't care to be
seen speaking to you, sir."

"Ha!" Mr. Crow exploded. "Don't you think I'm as good as you are?"

"No!" said Henrietta Hen. "No, I don't!"

Mr. Crow was all for arguing with her. He began to tell Henrietta many
things about himself, how he had spent dozens of summers in Pleasant
Valley, what a great traveller he was, how far he could fly in a day.
There was no end to his boasting.

Yet Henrietta Hen never looked the least bit interested. Indeed, she
began scratching for worms while he was talking. And that made the old