Pig in her grunting voice. "Come, get ready for
supper. I think I hear the farmer coming with the nice sour milk!"
"Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed all the little pigs, for they were very
hungry indeed. "Squee! Squee! Squee!"
They all made a rush to see who would get to the eating trough first.
Some of them even put their feet in, they were so anxious. Pigs are
always that way. They know no better, so we must excuse them. If they
had been taught not to do that, and then did it, we would not excuse
them.
"Here comes the farmer with the sour milk," grunted Mr. Pig. "Oh, how
good it smells!"
Just then Squealer cried:
"Why, where's Squinty?"
His brothers and sisters looked around.
Squinty, the comical pig, was not to be seen. But we know where he was,
even if his mamma and papa and brothers and sisters did not. Squinty was
in the cornfield, trying to find his way back to the pen.
"Why, where can Squinty be?" asked Mrs. Pig. "Squinty! Squinty!" she
called, grunting and squealing as she always did.
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