The advertised story is a kind of mother-hen who gathers under her wings a numerous brood of biographical chicks.
Presently the mother-hen, turning round, happened to spy him.
Hondecoeter gives us here a mother-hen, who could face the Madonna of the Chair.
The mother-hen was at work still among the stones, but the chickens had climbed about him and were perching on him.
When the boy had lifted up our mansion (which he called a coop), mother-hen started at once on a journey round the world.
