that we who wear feathers are not the only geese in the world. I could
point out a good many who would feel insulted if we claimed relationship
with them. Mr. Man's boy Johnny makes a bigger goose of himself than I
am, many a time, and it's no longer ago than yesterday, when Mr. Fido
Dog showed how near he came to being my cousin."

"Tell me the story," your Aunt Amy suggested, and Mrs. Goose began
without delay:




THE RACE BETWEEN MR. FIDO AND MR. SHANGHAI.


"For a good many weeks the birds and animals on this farm have been
trying to decide whether the two-footed or the four-footed were the
swiftest, and last week, while we were talking the matter over, foolish
Mr. Fido Dog said, as he swelled his chest way out:

"'It stands to reason that I could beat Mr. Shanghai in a race. I've got
four good feet with spring soles, and he has only two poor scratchers
that are all bones and claws. Why, I could easily run from here to the
pond, take a drink there, and be home again before he got as far as the
fence.'

"'My, how big you talk, just because you're allowed to sleep in the
house!' Mr. Shanghai said. 'You forget my wings, Mr. Fido. Perhaps they
are worth just a little.'