"Can't say till I get 'em in the scales, of course," and, smoothing down his apron, the Gentleman Goose advanced toward Ann in a businesslike fashion. The two little apprentices, carrying bags, followed at his heels. Ann clung to Rudolf. "I haven't any feathers," she screamed. "They're curls. I'm not a nasty bird--I'm a little girl with hair!" "She doesn't want to be plucked!" exclaimed the Gray Goose who had returned to the stove to stir the contents of the iron pot. "Well, now, did you ever! Maybe it goes in her family. I had a great-aunt once on my father's side who--" "They're feathers, all right," chuckled Squawker. "You're a perfect little duck, that's what I think." "Me, too," chimed in Squealer. The Gentleman Goose reached over the Lady Goose's shoulder, snatched the spectacles off her nose without so much as by your leave, set them crookedly on his own, and looked over them long and earnestly at Ann. "So you want to call 'em hair, do you?" he snapped. "I suppose you think you belong in a hair mattress!" Ann was ready to cry, and Rudolf had drawn his sword with the intention of doing his best to protect her, when at that moment a new voice was heard. Looking in at the little window over the top of the red geranium the children saw a good-humored furry face with long bristly whiskers and bright twinkly eyes. "Anybody mention my name?" said the voice, and a large Belgian Hare leaped lightly into the room. He was handsomely dressed in a light overcoat and checked trousers, and wore gaiters over his patent-leather boots. He had a thick gold watch-chain, gold studs and cuff buttons besides other jewelry, and in one hand he carried a high hat, in the other a small dress-suit case and a tightly rolled umbrella. "What's the matter here?" he inquired cheerfully. "Why, this bird," explained the Gentleman Goose, pointing his claw disdainfully at Ann, "says it has no feathers, which you can see for yourself is not the case. It has feathers, therefore it is a bird. Birds of a feather flock together. That settles it, I think! Come along, boys. To work!" At his command the two duck apprentices, who were standing one on either side of Ann, made feeble dashes at the two long curls nearest them. Rudolf stepped forward but the Hare was before him. He only needed to stare at the two ducks through a single eye-glass he had screwed into one of his eyes to make them turn pale and drop their claws to their sides. "Now once more," said the Hare to Ann. "What did you say you call those unpleasantly long whiskers of yours?" "Hair," Ann answered meekly, for she was too frightened to be offended. "Hair!" echoed Rudolf and Peter loudly.