CHAPTER LIV

FEATHER FLOP’S CONCEIT

“OH, Feather Flop! Feather Flop!” called Mary Frances, as she carried a pan of the “left overs” of the garden party out to the rooster the next morning.

Feather Flop made some queer gurgling noise in his throat.

“Why, what’s the matter, old fellow?” she asked in alarm.

“Matter?” cawed Feather Flop hoarsely. “Matter? Why, this: I’ve nearly crowed my bill off trying to call you. I’m so hoarse I can scarcely whisper! I grew so weak, finally I had to lean up against the fence to crow!”

“Mercy! Was it as bad as that?” asked Mary Frances. “Why, I must have been so tired out from our garden party that I slept so soundly I didn’t hear. I’m sorry—you must have wanted to see me very particularly, too!”

“‘Our garden party!’” echoed Feather Flop. “‘Our garden party!’ As though any mention had been made of me!”

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried Mary Frances. “Oh, was that it, Feather Flop? I never thought—really! I supposed I must keep you a secret just as I’ve been accustomed with other fairy folks.”

“Fairy folks!” exclaimed Feather Flop. “Fairy folks! I’m not a fairy! I’m a farmer! and even if you don’t remember, it doesn’t change the fact that if it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have had any garden at all.”

“Why, you conceited old fellow!” cried Mary Frances. “How do you make that out? But,” seeing the disappointment on his face, “of course, I appreciate your help. Indeed I do, Feather Flop,” she added.

“Don’t you recollect?” asked Feather Flop. “Don’t you recollect that day when you couldn’t understand the seed catalogue? Who was it that helped you then? Who was it, little Miss?”

He cocked his head and looked up at her expectantly.

“Why, it was you, Feather Flop!” Mary Frances exclaimed. “It certainly was you, my old friend!”

Feather Flop blinked. “I’m glad you can call it to mind!” he remarked. “If you had only just mentioned my name at the garden party, I wouldn’t have felt so bad.”

“Oh!” said Mary Frances.

“Even if you’d just said to me, if you’d just said, ‘Feather Flop, old chap, you can’t come to the garden party, of course, but you’re invited,’ I wouldn’t have felt as I did.”

“Oh, dear!” said Mary Frances.

“If you’d said at the party, ‘Now, if my old friend, Feather Flop, hadn’t helped me,’ or something like that, I’d have been so proud and glad.”

“How do you know I didn’t?” Mary Frances parleyed under sudden inspiration.

“How do I know? I was there. I was there even uninvited!” declared Feather Flop.

“Why, where in the world were you?” asked Mary Frances in astonishment. “You couldn’t have been in the garden, for we were everywhere.”

“It’s a riddle!” Feather Flop’s voice sounded as though he was laughing. “I was in the garden! You can’t guess where!”

“Indeed, I can’t.” Mary Frances shook her head. “Unless you were under something inside the play house.”

“No, I wasn’t inside the play house,” said Feather Flop, in a voice which still sounded like laughter. “Guess again! One more guess!”

“Give it up.” Mary Frances acknowledged her defeat.

“Why, I was outside the play house on the roof!” declared the rooster triumphantly.

“Oh!” cried Mary Frances, delighted. “So that is where you were! You really were at the party, after all! Now I shall feel better. If I’d only realized how you felt, I’d loved to have invited you and to have had you there!”

“That makes it all right,” said Feather Flop brightly. “I only thought you’d forgotten me and maybe didn’t want me! That’s what made me so sad!”

“Not want you!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Not want you! I think you are the most wonderful rooster in the whole wide world, and the smartest——”

“Farmer?” asked Feather Flop anxiously.

“Yes, indeed, farmer!” declared the little girl, picking him up and tenderly smoothing him. “If it hadn’t been for you, I doubt if I’d have had a garden!”

“Oh, I’m the happiest rooster in the wide world!” sighed Feather Flop, “and if I weren’t just a plain farmer rooster, I’d turn into a fairy prince, dressed in blue satin trimmed with gold and diamonds, but as it is—I’m hungry!”

“Come!” laughed Mary Frances. “Come, eat,” she said. “I like you far better than any fairy prince, for you’re my own dear friend—my farmer, Feather Flop.”

And Feather Flop looked so proud you might have imagined him in tiny overalls and sun hat.