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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 11 I jolted. Colby was staring at me like I was a two-headed snake. "Maybe I am," I answered. Colby scratched his head, confused. "Too early for plums." I calmed. I noticed Colby's sketch pad and pencil and asked, "What you been drawing?" "Henrie. I think I got him right this time." Colby lay down on the grass at my feet. Colby loves to sketch Henrie, our prize rooster. He's sketched Henrie at least a dozen times before, as well as Sadie, the hen, and Hank, the pig, and every other creature and machine on the farm. I held out my hand. "Can I see?" He opened his sketchpad and handed it over. I knew the rules-I could examine the one picture, but not any others. "Oh..." My breath hurried to catch up with my eyes. Henrie strutted right off the page, his tail feathers proud and his head pushed forward. A glint of light reflected in his dark eye, confessing some noble thought that only the king of the roost could confess. I chuckled. "That's Henrie, all right." I admired the sketch for the longest time. "Anything else?" I asked. Colby took the sketchpad and flipped a few pages. He considered one and then changed his mind. He flipped to another. "Beulah!" |