This the Aspen stood by and saw.
"Why do you rive and rend everything so, Mr. Axe?" said the Aspen.
"Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself," said the Axe; "dame Partlet sits in the ingle sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; and the Stove smokes and steams. That's why I rive and rend all about."
"Well, if I can do naught else," said the Aspen, "I can quiver and quake in all my leaves;" so it grew all of a quake.
The Birds saw this, and twittered out—
"Why do you quiver and quake, Miss Aspen?"
"Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself," said the Aspen, with a trembling voice; "dame Partlet sits in the ingle sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams and bangs, the Stove steams and smokes; and the Axe rives and rends. That's why I quiver and quake."
"Well, if we can do naught else, we will pluck off all our feathers," said the Birds; and with that they fell a-pilling and plucking themselves till the room was full of feathers.
This the Master stood by and saw, and, when the feathers flew about like fun, he asked the Birds—
"Why do you pluck off all your feathers, you Birds?"
"Oh! goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself," twittered out the Birds; "dame Partlet sits sighing and sobbing in the ingle
