featherhead

They hadn't heard Featherhead, the naughty son of Squirrel Nutcracker, take down the sign.

It was certainly a very mean thing to do, but then, you must remember, Featherhead was not a nice sort of a squirrel.

Do you ever stop, Mrs. Featherhead, to mark the beauty of our wayside clover or the sparkle of a buttercup in the dew?

“Here they are,” answered Featherhead, taking some red and yellow oak apples out of his pocket.

Featherhead and Twinkle Tail picked up their books and followed.