The Muley Cow noticed that Billy Woodchuck was making many trips back and across the pasture. Watching him carefully, she saw that he always crept under the fence and stole into the field where the clover grew. And every time he came back again he looked plumper than before.  
"That clover's not intended for you," the Muley Cow told him at last. She thought that ought to be enough to stop him. But it made not the slightest difference. Billy Woodchuck continued to visit the clover-patch just as often as ever.And it seemed to the Muley Cow that he stayed longer each time he went there.
 
"Something will have to be done to keep that Woodchuck boy out of our clover," she announced to the rest of the . "If we don't stop him there'll be no nice clover hay for us next winter."
 
"Somebody ought to put a on him," said the little red cow. And everybody laughed—everybody except the Muley Cow. She saw nothing funny in the suggestion. She thought it silly; and she said as much, too: "Who ever heard of a Woodchuck wearing a poke about his neck?"
 
"Have you told Billy Woodchuck to keep out of the clover?" one of the Muley Cow's friends inquired.
 
"I've dropped a hint; but it seems he can't take a hint," the Muley Cow replied.
 
 
"Then someone will have to speak plainly to him," the friend said. And the whole herd told the Muley Cow that she was the one to do it, because she was the oldest cow on the farm.
 
S............