Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, on the night before Christmas, a little child was wandering all alone through the streets of a great city. There were many people on the street, fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts, and even gray-haired grandfathers and grandmothers, all of whom were hurrying home with bundles of presents for each other and for their little ones. Fine carriages rolled by, express wagons rattled past, even old carts were pressed into service, and all things seemed in a hurry and glad with expectation of the coming Christmas morning
There once lived an armadillo who loved music more than anything else in the world. After every rainfall, the armadillo would drag his shell over to the large pond filled with frogs and he would listen to the big green frogs singing back and forth, back and forth to each other in the most amazing voices.
Scratch. Scratch. Peck. Cock was strutting around the yard, busily looking for good things to eat. Peck, peck scratch. He gobbled down a piece of barley-corn with greedy satisfaction. Yum!
“That’s it!” Black Rooster crowed to himself when he spotted Red Rooster flirting with the hens again. “I’ve had it with that impudent Rooster. This is my farmyard, not his!”