The hen had found a nice fat, pink worm between the bushes and the mud. Before eating it, she was happily rolling it around with her beak and yellow claws.
A white rooster speckled with red, whose comb was red hot from the sun realised from her behaviour, that she had a small treasure between her claws.
He approached, and when he saw the tasty morsel he asked the hen: “What are you rolling about? Oh, a worm? How
revolting! What sort of rubbish is this? Aren’t you ashamed? And at your age too…! Don’t tell me that you intend to eat that rubbish! A classy hen like you would never do that! Never! Even if it meant starving to death.”
The hen was convinced by the rooster’s words and left, ashamed of what she had been about to do.
As soon as her back was turned, the rooster swallowed the worm as quick as a flash…and it really was a tasty morsel.
“Hens will be hens. They really are beautiful things!” he cock-a-doodled-doed, licking the tip of his beak with his slender tongue.