Henrietta Hen's neighbors paid little attention to her boasting, because they had to listen to it so often. At last, however, there came a day when she set up such a cackling as they had never heard from her before. She kept calling out at the top of her lungs, "Come-come-come! See-what-I've-got! Come-come-come! See-what-I've-got!" And she acted even more important than ever, until her friends began to say to one another, "What can Henrietta be so proud about? If it's only another egg, she's making a terrible fuss about it."  
They decided¹ at last that if they were to have any peace they'd better go and look at whatever it was that Henrietta Hen was squawking about. So they went—in a body—to the place where she had her nest, in the haymow.
 
When Henrietta caught sight of her visitors she set up a greater clamor than ever.
 
"Well, well!" cried the oldest of the party, a rather sharp-tongued dame² with white feathers. "What's all this hubbub³ about?" And then they learned what it was that Henrietta wanted them to see.
 
"Did you ever set eyes on such a fine family?" she demanded as she stepped aside from her nest and let them peer into it.
 
"A brood of chicks—eh?" said the lady in white. "Well, what's all the noise about?"
 
Henrietta Hen turned her back on her questioner.
 
"I knew you'd all want to have a look at these prize youngsters," she said to the rest of the company. "You'll agree with me, of course, that there were never any other chicks as handsome as these."
 
Henrietta's neighbors all crowded up to gaze upon the soft balls of down.
 
"This is the first family you've hatched, isn't it?" Polly Plymouth Rock inquired.
 
Henrietta Hen said that it was her first brood.
 
Her neighbors wanted to be pleasant. So they told her that her children were as fine youngsters as anybody could ask for. And the old white dame, squinting⁴ at the nestlings, said to Henrietta:
 
"They're the finest you've ever had.... But there's one of them that has a queer look."
 
All the other visitors tried to hush⁵ her up. They didn't want to hurt Henrietta Hen's feelings. It was her first brood of chicks; and they could forgive her for thinking them the best in the whole world. So when they saw that old Whitey intended to be disagreeable they began to cluck their approval of the youngsters, hoping that Henrietta wouldn't notice what Whitey said.
 
Nor did she. Henrietta Hen was altogether too pleased with herself and her new family to pay much attention to anybody else's remarks.
 
"I hope," said Henrietta, "that you'll all come to see my family often. As the youngsters grow, I'm sure they'll get handsomer every day."
 
The neighbors thanked her. And crowding about old Whitey they moved away. Old Whitey just had to go too.[Pg 10] She couldn't help spluttering a little.
 
"What a vain, empty-headed creature Henrietta Hen is!" she exclaimed. "She doesn't know that one of her brood is nothing but a duckling!"