(1852)
“That was a terrible affair!” said a hen, and in a quarter of the town, too,
where it had not taken place. “That was a terrible affair in a hen-roost. I
cannot sleep alone to-night. It is a good thing that many of us sit on the
roost together.” And then she told a story that made the feathers on the other
hens bristle up, and the cock’s comb fall. There was no doubt about it.
But we will begin at the beginning, and that is to be found in a hen-roost
in another part of the town. The sun was setting, and the fowls were flying
on to their roost; one hen, with white feathers and short legs, used to lay her
eggs according to the regulations, and was, as a hen, respectable in every
way. As she was flying upon the roost, she plucked herself with her beak,
and a little feather came out.
“There it goes,” she said; “the more I pluck, the more beautiful do I get.”
She said this merrily, for she was the best of the hens, and, moreover, as had
been said, very respectable. With that she went to sleep.
It was dark all around, and hen sat close to hen, but the one who sat
nearest to her merry neighbour did not sleep. She had heard and yet not
heard, as we are often obliged to do in this world, in order to live at peace;
but she could not keep it from her neighbour on the other side any longer.
“Did you hear what was said? I mention no names, but there is a hen here
who intends to pluck herself in order to look well. If I were a cock, I should
despise her.”
Just over the fowls sat the owl, with father owl and the little owls. The
family has sharp ears, and they all heard every word that their neighbour
had said. They rolled their eyes, and mother owl, beating her wings, said:
“Don’t listen to her! But I suppose you heard what was said? I heard it with
my own ears, and one has to hear a great deal before they fall off. There is
