The Tales of Tiffany Chicken
PART 2 TIFFANY GETS HER NAME
“I’m going to call you Tiffany — Tiffany Chicken.”
The little chick looked up at her new mum. She hardly remembered the feathered mum who had forgotten her when she hatched. Cold and alone, little Tiffany had nearly died. Now she was growing stronger every day.
“How do you know it’s a girl?” said someone. “Tiffany would be a funny name for a cockerel.”
“Of course I’m a girl,” chirped Tiffany crossly, but unfortunately nobody understood her.
“You’ve got a lot to say for yourself,” laughed New Mum. “Definitely a girl. Such a sweet face too.”
Tiffany loved to come out of her box and sit with her strange new family. She had a heater to keep her warm and plenty to eat and drink. But she was sometimes lonely.
“Oh Tiffany,” said New Mum. “You’ve made a mess again. Back in your box.”
“No, no, no,” squeaked Tiffany, struggling to get free. “I want to stay with you.”
It was no good. She was put back in her cardboard box. There was nobody to play with. She scurried under her heater and sulked.
“Tell you what,” said New Mum, “I’ll put the radio on to keep you company.”
Tiffany liked the strange noises. She sang along to the music and listened to people talking. She was a very smart chicken and the more she listened the more she learnt. Soon she understood everything she heard, but she could still only speak chicken.
“My name is Tiffany Chicken,” she chirped quietly to herself, “and I’m going to get out of this box and have some fun.”