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The Gray Goose's Story by Amy Prentice
page 45 of 52 (86%)

"How can that be?" your Aunt Amy asked quickly. "The man killed the
goose which was bringing in so much gold, and it surely seems as if she
received the most severe punishment."

"That would be right if the story, as Mr. Man tells it, was true," Mrs.
Goose said sharply; "but it is not, and however it got so twisted I
can't for the life of me understand. Now if that goose was my
great-great-grandmother, I ought to know all about it, and I do, for
I've heard Grandfather White Goose tell it more times than I've got
feathers in my left wing.

"Would you like to know how it all really happened? Well, I'll tell you,
and remember that I'm the one among all others on this farm who should
know the exact truth. She was a gray goose, the one who laid the eggs,
and looked very much like me, so grandfather says. The Mr. Man where she
lived was very kind, and actually gave her a bedroom in his own house.
No matter what she wanted to eat, he bought it for her, and all the eggs
she laid he spread out on a kind of desk or table which had been built
especially for them.

"Every morning when she had laid the egg, Mr. Man took her into the room
where they were all spread out, and let her see him put it safely away.

"Now, so grandfather says, Mrs. Goose was petted so much, and had so
many good things to eat, that she began to believe she was something
wonderful, and I really suppose she was, being the only bird that ever
laid golden eggs. But she got all puffed up with pride, and thought she
ought to live without doing any kind of work, so one day while she was
watching Mr. Man take care of the eggs, she saw a big knife hanging up,
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