"No, not even a family resemblance," went on the Gray Goose, waving her spoon, "although, as is generally known, a Roman nose is characteristic in our family, having developed in fact at the time of that little affair when we repelled the Gauls in the year--" But Rudolf felt he could not stand much more of this. "I beg your pardon," he interrupted, "but would you mind if we helped the little one out of the heap, the--the--duck who is getting so thoroughly smothered?" "Not at all, if you care about it," said the Gray Goose kindly. "Squawker'll be good now, won't he, Father?" "Oh, I'm sure he'll be good," Ann cried, and she ran ahead of Rudolf to catch hold of one of the thin yellow legs and give it a mighty pull. "He'll be good," said the Gentleman Goose gravely, speaking for the first time, "when he's roasted. Very good indeed'll Squawker be--with apple sauce!" And he smacked his lips and winked at Peter who was standing close beside him, looking up earnestly into his face. Peter thought a moment. Then he said: "_I_ likes currant jelly on my duck. I eats apple sauce on goose." The Gentleman Goose appeared suddenly uncomfortable. He began nervously stuffing little parcels of the feathers he had been weighing into small blue and white striped bags, which he threw one after the other to Squealer, who never by any chance caught them as he turned his back at every throw. "I suppose," said the Gentleman Goose to Peter in a hesitating, anxious sort of voice, "you believe along with all the rest, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, don't you? I suppose there's nothing sauce-y about yourself now, is there?" And apparently comforted by his miserable little joke he went on with his weighing. By this time the other little duck had been hauled out of the heap of feathers by Ann and Rudolf, and stood coughing and sneezing and gasping in the middle of the floor. As soon as he had breath enough he began calling pitifully for some one to brush the down off his Sunday trousers. The Gray Goose came good-naturedly to his assistance, but as she brushed him all the wrong way, the children couldn't see that she improved him very much. Squawker seemed quite pleased, however, and turned himself round and round for their approval. "What kind of birds are these new ones?" he asked the Lady Goose when she had finished with him. "Why just three more of us, Squawker, dear," she answered. This remark made all three children open their eyes very wide. "Nonsense," began Rudolf angrily, "_we_ aren't geese!" From the other end of the room came the voice of the Gentleman Goose, who spoke without turning round. "What makes you think that?" he asked. "Because we aren't--we--" --"You're molting pretty badly, of course, now you mention it," interrupted the Lady Goose, "you and the little one. But this one's feathers seem in nice condition." As she spoke she laid a long claw lovingly on Ann's head. "How much would you say a pound, father?"