“Chicken Little–Chicken Little!” Mrs. Morton’s face was flushed with the heat. She was frying doughnuts over a hot stove and had been calling Chicken Little at intervals for the past ten minutes. Providence did not seem to have designed Mrs. Morton for frying doughnuts. She was very sensitive to heat and had little taste for cooking. She had laid aside her silks and laces on coming to the ranch, but the poise and dignity... more...

“Chicken Little! Chick-en Lit-tle!” The three little girls in the fence corner looked up but no one responded. “Chicken Little Jane!” The voice was a trifle more insistent. The little girl in the blue gingham dress and white frilled pinafore looked at her small hostess reproachfully. “Why don’t you answer, Jane?” “’Cause I’ll have to go in. She’ll think I don’t hear if I... more...