"Don't look now" says Cruella, whilst striding ahead, "but I think she's taking a photo of us"
"Whys can't I look?" asks Hilda-
"It's your comb". is the firm reply. "It's too floppy. We may only be common or garden brown french chickens but we still have our standards to maintain. Some of these pictures can be seen abroad, you know".
"I don't care about standards" whines Hilda "My feet are too cold".
"LIFT them" admonishes Cruella. "SEE?" and she lifts her left claw in front of her and firmly waggles it to shake it free of the snow. "But I'm too tired for that" sighs Hilda. "I only just finished laying my egg". "Follow in my tracks, then" says Cruella-a little more kindly. They are, after all birds of a feather. So Hilda trod in her mistresses steps-whilst all around, the snow lay-deep, and crisp, and even.
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