That, of course, was a most impolite way for Henrietta Hen to speak to
anybody of old Whitey's age. Whitey was the oldest hen in the flock. And
what she didn't know about such things as nests and eggs and roosts
wasn't worth knowing.

Polly Plymouth Rock didn't like Henrietta Hen's remark. She opened her
mouth.

And no doubt she would have said something quite sharp in reply. But old
Whitey stopped her.

"Never mind!" said Whitey. "The day will come when Henrietta Hen will
agree that my guess is a good one."

Still Henrietta Hen felt uneasy about that big, white egg.

"I do hope Johnnie Green won't find this new nest of mine," she remarked.

"If he does, I fear he'll take my beautiful egg away from me."

"Lay another!" said old Whitey. "Lay another and he'll take that and
leave this one."

"I suppose I may as well try your scheme," Henrietta replied, "since
nobody suggests anything better."

"My idea's a good one, or I'll miss my guess," said old Whitey.

There was some snickering among Henrietta Hen's callers as they bade her
good afternoon and left her.