PHOEBE PHEASANT
Little Phoebe Pheasant's dew-wet feet hurried along the edge of the Sunny Meadow. Mr. Merry Sun hadn't been up long enough to dry the grass, for it was very early in the morning.
In some places the dew had turned to frost, but the little pheasant didn't mind that in the least, for she is a hardy bird, and not a bit afraid of cold weather.
The weather is about the only thing she isn't afraid of, for she is very timid. Although she sometimes went to the Old Farmyard for breakfast, at the slightest noise she would fly away.
As she hurried along through the dewy frost she caught sight of Little Jack Rabbit. And as he was the one person she wished to see that morning, it didn't take her long to reach the Old Bramble Patch.
"Good morning, Phoebe Pheasant," said the little bunny. "You seem in a hurry."
"Yes, I'm in a dreadful hurry to ask you something," replied the little pheasant.
"Well, what is it?" laughed the little bunny.
"You remember Turkey Tim left the Old Farmyard before Thanksgiving?"
"Of course I do," answered the little rabbit.
"He wants to know whether the Kind Farmer has been looking for him?" whispered Phoebe Pheasant. "He doesn't dare go back himself to find out."
"I should say not," answered the little rabbit. "The Kind Farmer's dreadfully put out. He had to go without his Thanksgiving turkey!"
"Then you think it would be dangerous for Turkey Tim to go back to the Old Farmyard?"
"Yes, just now," replied the little bunny. "He'd better wait until everybody has forgotten Thanksgiving."
"It's dreadfully hard on him, all alone in the Shady Forest," sighed the little pheasant. "He's not a Wild Turkey, you know."
"Never mind if he isn't," answered Little Jack Rabbit. "He'll be a Roast Turkey if he goes back now to the Old Farmyard."