"No, my dear. It's old age. I am very old."
"I thought so. Are you fifty?"
"Yes--more than that."
"Are you a hundred?"
"Yes--more than that. I am too old for you to guess. Come and see my
chickens."
[Illustration: She clapped her hands with delight, and up rose such a
flapping of wings.]
Again she stopped her spinning. She rose, took the princess by the
hand,
led her out of the room, and opened the door opposite the stair. The
princess expected to see a lot of hens and chickens, but instead of
that, she saw the blue sky first, and then the roofs of the house, with
a multitude of the loveliest pigeons, mostly white, but of all colors,
walking about, making bows to each other, and talking a language she
could not understand. She clapped her hands with delight, and up rose
such a flapping of wings, that she in her turn was startled.
"You've frightened my poultry," said the old lady, smiling.
"And they've frightened me," said the princess, smiling too. "But what
very nice poultry! Are the eggs nice?"
Madhuri Noah
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