be captured at all. The children finally succeeded in driving them, twenty of them, that is, into the tent.
"Somebody will have to stay and see they don't come out when we get the chickens," said Meg. "Dot's too little—she'll let 'em out. I'll do it, if you'll stay when we get the chickens in, and let me capture the turkeys, Bobby."
Bobby assented, and Meg stayed behind at the tent while Dot, Twaddles and Bobby went after the chickens.
If you have ever tried to drive a hen into a certain place, you will know how very stupid she can be. The children were hot and cross before they had twenty-eight white leghorn hens penned in the tent with the ducks.
"They make an awful lot of noise," said Bobby nervously. "Jud will hear them."
"As soon as they find it's dark they'll think it's night," answered Meg comfortably. "Now I'm going after turkeys."
But the only turkey she could find was the lame one that lived in the chicken yard and was tame enough to allow herself to be picked up.
