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I guess they forgot to feed him and it makes him mad." "That is too bad. He is a real pretty bird," agreed Margy. "Wonder if we could feed him?" "We can ask that nice cook for bwead," said Mun Bun doubtfully. "They don't feed gooseys bread, I guess," objected the little girl. "What do they feed 'em?" "I guess corn or oats."
"He won't say anything," said Mun Bun briskly. "For he won't see it. And now, Margy, we can throw the corn to those gooseys and ganders much better. See!" He grabbed a handful of shelled corn out of the dish and scattered it as far as he could toward the flock. At once the gray birds became interested. They stretched their long necks and the big gander uttered a questioning "honk!"
"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?"
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