“See, that’s the way it goes in the world!” said the Mother-Duck; and she whetted her beak, for she too wanted the eel’s head.  “Only use your legs,” she said.  “See that you can bustle about, and bend your necks before the old Duck yonder.  She’s the grandest of all here; she’s of Spanish blood—­that’s why she’s so fat; and do you see? she has a red rag around her leg; that’s something very, very fine, and the greatest mark of honor a duck can have:  it means that one does not want to lose her, and that she’s known by the animals and by men too.  Hurry! hurry!—­don’t turn in your toes, a well brought-up duck turns it’s toes quite out, just like father and mother,—­so!  Now bend your necks and say ‘Quack!’”

And they did so; but the other ducks round about looked at them, and said quite boldly,—­“Look there! now we’re to have this crowd too! as if there were not enough of us already!  And—­fie!—­how that Duckling yonder looks:  we won’t stand that!” And at once one Duck flew at him, and bit him in the neck.

“Let him alone,” said the mother:  “he is not doing anything to any one.”

“Yes, but he’s too large and odd,” said the Duck who had bitten him, “and so he must be put down.”

“Those are pretty children the mother has,” said the old Duck with the rag round her leg.  “They’re all pretty but that one; that is rather unlucky.  I wish she could have that one over again.”

“That cannot be done, my lady,” said the Mother-Duck.  “He is not pretty, but he has a really good temper, and swims as well as any of the others; yes, I may even say it, a little better.  I think he will grow up pretty, perhaps in time he will grow a little smaller; he lay too long in the egg, and therefore he has not quite the right shape.”  And she pinched him in the neck, and smoothed his feathers.  “Besides, he is a drake,” she said, “and so it does not matter much.  I think he will be very strong:  he makes his way already.”

“The other ducklings are graceful enough,” said the old Duck.  “Make yourself at home; and if you find an eel’s head, you may bring it to me.”

And now they were at home.  But the poor Duckling who had crept last out of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, as much by the ducks as by the chickens.

“He is too big!” they all said.  And the turkey-cock, who had been born with spurs, and so thought he was an emperor, blew himself up, like a ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon him; then he gobbled and grew quite red in the face.  The poor Duckling did not know where he dared stand or walk; he was quite unhappy because he looked ugly, and was the sport of the whole duck-yard.

So it went on the first day; and then it grew worse and worse.  The poor Duckling was hunted about by every one; even his brothers and sisters were quite angry with him, and said, “If the cat would only catch you, you ugly creature!” And the ducks bit him, and the chickens beat him, and the girl who had to feed the poultry kicked at him with her foot.