"Squee! Squee!" cried all the other little pigs, as they, too, made a
rush to get more to eat.
"Here! Hold on! Come back!" cried Mr. Pig. "That is Squinty's supper.
You must not touch it. You have had yours!" and he and Mrs. Pig would
not let Squinty's brothers and sisters shove him away from the trough.
For sometimes pigs are so hungry that they do this, you know. Being pigs
they know no better.
So Squinty had his supper, after all, though he did run away. Perhaps he
should have been punished by being sent to bed without having had
anything to eat, but you see the farmer wanted his pigs to be fat and
healthy, so he fed them well. Squinty was very glad of that.
"Now all of you go to sleep," said Mrs. Pig, when it grew darker and
darker in the pen. So she made them all cuddle down in the straw,
pulling it over them with her nose and paws, like a blanket, to keep
them warm. For only part of the pen had a roof over it, and though it
was summer, still it was cool at night.
But Squinty's brothers and sisters had no notion of going to sleep so
soon.
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