“Flee you clucking biddies, flee or I’ll send the foxes after you!” The Prince stood in the middle of the hen yard in his boxers clutching a baseball bat as the squawking birds half flew and half ran through the open gate, over the gravel path, and out into the open field.
“Oh my!” gasped Cinderella as she watched her prince chase the last of the birds out of the yard.
When he saw her, he drew up short and reigned in himself regally. “I guess now you know,” he stated.
“Know what?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked questioning.
“There is no reason that I can not have beef,” he said with dignity.
“Except the doctor said you should not have it. He said you may have chicken. Now why are the chicken across the road?”
Prince Charming picked up the baseball bat and shook it at the birds, then swung and connected with the hen house again brooking no argument from Cinderella. “I want beef,” He muttered, “and that’s why the chickens crossed the road.”