But sometimes the little folks slipped away from even Mother Bunker's
observation.
The gardener often talked to the littlest Bunkers, and he saw, too, that
they did no more mischief around the greenhouse. When he saw them that
afternoon trotting down the hill toward the poultry houses he failed to
follow them. He had his work to do, of course, and it did not enter his
head that Mun Bun and Margy could get into much trouble with the
poultry.
Margy and Mun Bun were delighted with the "chickens" as they called most
of the fowl the Armatages kept. But there were many different kinds--not
alone of hens and roosters; for there were peafowl, and guineas, and
ducks, and turkeys. And in addition there was a flock of gray geese.
"Those are gooseys," Margy announced, pointing through the slats of the
low fence which shut in the geese and their strip of the branch, or
brook, and the grass plot which the geese had all to themselves.
"Goosey, goosey gander!" chanted Mun Bun, clinging to the top rail of
the fence and looking through the slats. "Which is ganders and which is
gooseys, Margy?"
As though in answer to his query one of the big birds, with a horny
crown on its head, stuck out its neck and ran at the little boy looking
through the fence. The bird hissed in a most hateful manner too.
"Oh, look out, Mun Bun!" cried his sister. "I guess that's a gander.
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