Her uncle often called after her: "And everywhere that Bessie
goes, the turkey's sure to go."
Yes, round the garden, up and down the avenue, and even into the
house itself the turkey followed Bessie.
Then why was she so sad?
Alas! she remembered her uncle's words when he gave her the
turkey, "On Thanksgiving Day we will have him on the table."
Thanksgiving Day would be here in a week.
Now, if Bessie had been like some little girls, she would have
told her trouble to her uncle. But she never mentioned it to any
one, although she cried herself to sleep several nights before
Thanksgiving Day.
At last the day came, and Bessie, instead of going out to the
fowlyard as usual, kept in the house all the morning. She was
afraid that, if she went, she would not find her beloved friend.
Dinner-time came, and, with a heavy heart, she seated herself at
the table. Her uncle and aunt noticed her sober face, and thought
that she missed her father and mother.
"Come, come, said her uncle, "we must cheer up; no sad looks on
Thanksgiving Day. Maria, BRING IN THE TURKEY."
Poor Bessie! she could not look up as the door opened, and
something was brought in on a big platter. But, as the platter
was placed on the table, she saw that it did indeed hold her
turkey, but he was alive and well.
She looked so astonished that suddenly her uncle understood all
her past troubles.
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