| It's Quite True! 
                                    By Hans Christian Andersen 
                                    (1852)
 ' That is a terrible affair ! ' said a Hen ; 
                                    and she said it in a quarter of the town 
                                    where the occurrence had not happened. ' 
                                    That is a terrible affair in the poultry 
                                    -house. I cannot sleep alone to-night ! It 
                                    is quite fortunate that there are many of us 
                                    on the roost together ! ' And she
 told a tale at which the feathers of the 
                                    other birds stood on end, and the cock's 
                                    comb fell down flat. It 's quite true !
 
 But we will begin at the beginning ; and 
                                    that was in a poultry-house in another part 
                                    of the town. The sun went down, and the 
                                    fowls jumped up on their perch to roost. 
                                    There was a Hen, with white feathers and 
                                    short legs, who laid her right number of 
                                    eggs, and was a respectable hen
 in every way ; as she flew up on to the 
                                    roost she pecked herself with her beak, and 
                                    a little feather fell out.
 
 ' There it goes ! ' said she ; ' the more I 
                                    peck myself the handsomer I grow ! ' And she 
                                    said it quite merrily, for she was a joker 
                                    among the hens, though, as I have said, she 
                                    was very respectable ; and then she went to 
                                    sleep.
 
 It was dark all around ; hen sat by hen, but 
                                    the one that sat next to the merry Hen did 
                                    not sleep : she heard and she didn't hear, 
                                    as one should do in this world if one wishes 
                                    to live in quiet ; but she could not refrain 
                                    from telling it to her next neighbour.
 
 ' Did you hear what was said here just now ? 
                                    I name no names ; but here is a hen who 
                                    wants to peck her feathers out to look well. 
                                    If I were a cock I should despise her.'
 
 And just above the Hens sat the Owl, with 
                                    her husband and her little owlets ; the 
                                    family had sharp ears, and they all heard 
                                    every word that the neighbouring Hen had 
                                    spoken, and they rolled their eyes, and the 
                                    Mother-Owl clapped her wings and said,
 
 ' Don't listen to it ! But I suppose you 
                                    heard what was said there ? I heard it with 
                                    my own ears, and one must hear much before 
                                    one's ears fall off. There is one among the 
                                    fowls who has so completely forgotten what 
                                    is becoming conduct in a hen that she pulls 
                                    out all her feathers, and
 then lets the cock see her.'
 
 Prenez garde aux enfants,' said the 
                                    Father-Owl. ' That 's not fit for the 
                                    children to hear.'
 
 ' I'll tell it to the neighbour owl ; she 's 
                                    a very proper owl to associate with.' And 
                                    she flew away.
 
 ' Hoo ! hoo ! to-whoo ! ' they both hooted 
                                    in front of the neighbour's dovecot to the 
                                    doves within. ' Have you heard it ? Have you 
                                    heard it ? Hoo ! hoo ! there 's a hen who 
                                    has pulled out all her feathers for the sake 
                                    of the cock. She'll die with cold, if she 's 
                                    not dead already/
 
 ' Coo ! coo ! Where, where ? ' cried the 
                                    Pigeons.
 
 ' In the neighbour's poultry-yard. I've as 
                                    good as seen it myself. It 's hardly proper 
                                    to repeat the story, but it 's quite true ! 
                                    '
 
 ' Believe it ! believe every single word of 
                                    it ! ' cooed the Pigeons, and they cooed 
                                    down into their own poultry-yard. There 's a 
                                    hen, and some say that there are two of them, 
                                    that have plucked out all their feathers, 
                                    that they may not look like the rest, and 
                                    that they may attract the cock's
 attention. That 's a bold game, for one may 
                                    catch cold and die of a fever, and they are 
                                    both dead.'
 
 ' Wake up ! wake up ! ' crowed the Cock, and 
                                    he flew up on to the fence ; his eyes were 
                                    still very heavy with sleep, but yet he 
                                    crowed. ' Three hens have died of an 
                                    unfortunate attachment to a cock. They have 
                                    plucked out all their feathers. That 's a 
                                    terrible story. I won't keep it to myself ; 
                                    let it travel farther.'
 
 Let it travel farther ! ' piped the Bats ; 
                                    and the fowls clucked and the cocks crowed, 
                                    ' Let it go farther ! let it go farther ! } 
                                    And so the story travelled from poultry-yard 
                                    to poultry-yard, and at last came back to 
                                    the place from which it had gone forth.
 
 ' Five fowls,' it was told, ' have plucked 
                                    out all their feathers to show which of them 
                                    had become thinnest out of love to the cock 
                                    ; and then they have pecked each other and 
                                    fallen down dead, to the shame and disgrace 
                                    of their families, and to the great loss of 
                                    the proprietor.'
 
 And the Hen who had lost the little loose 
                                    feather, of course did not know her own 
                                    story again ; and as she was a very 
                                    respectable Hen, she said,
 
 ' 1 despise those fowls ; but there are many 
                                    of that sort. One ought not to hush up such 
                                    a thing, and I shall do what I can that the 
                                    story may get into the papers, and then it 
                                    will be spread over all the country, and 
                                    that will serve those fowls right, and their 
                                    families too.'
 
 It was put into the newspaper : it was 
                                    printed ; and it 's quite true that one 
                                    little feather may swell till it becomes 
                                    five fowls.
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