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days in a week . . . one egg per chicken . . .” He wrote on his palm with a twig. “That’s thirty-five eggs a week! I’ll be rich!”
    â€œI’m going to fix up my old red wagon and give Twinkie and T-Rex rides,” said Emmy.
    â€œHey,” said Kelsey. “Maybe we can teach the chickens to pull it. Maybe we could build a pond! And a diving board! We can teach them to do a high dive. People would pay lots of money to see that, I’ll bet. And we could start a chicken club.”
    â€œWe could join 4-H and enter the chickens in the county fair. I’ll bet they’d win lots of blue ribbons. There can’t be any prettier chickens than ours.” Daniel gazed at the flock proudly.
    Primrose strutted through the backyard. Her white topknot quivered with every step. She stopped to scratch the dirt, kicking her foot out behind her. With a pleased cluck, she hunted for slugs.
    Violet, the big gray hen, spotted a grasshopper. She cocked her head. First she peered with one eye, then with the other. The grasshopper hopped. Violet squawked. Daniel chuckled.
    Twinkie and T-Rex stood at the water dish. Twinkie dipped her beak into the water. She put her head back to let it trickle down her throat. Then T-Rex dipped her beak. Up and down they went, like the old-fashioned drinking-bird toy Mrs. Grafalo kept on her windowsill.
    Daniel thought Peepers was the prettiest. Even though she was the smallest chicken, her red comb was the biggest. Her long, curly tail feathers shone.
    As Daniel admired her, Peepers flew up to the roof of the chicken coop. She perched. She flapped her wings. She stretched her neck.
Er-Er-Er!
she croaked.
    â€œWhat’s she doing?” asked Emmy, sitting up.
    Er-Er-Er-Er!

    â€œShe’s trying to crow!” said Kelsey, laughing. “Look, Daniel. She thinks she’s a rooster.”
    But Daniel stared at his pet. A horrible fear formed in his mind. His heart dived into his shoes. He slapped his forehead. “How could I have been so stupid?” he said. “How could I have been so blind?” He turned to Kelsey. “Some vet I’ll make. I can’t even tell a rooster from a hen!”
    Kelsey looked blank. “What do you mean?”
    He pointed to Peepers. She looked pleased with herself. “Peepers. She isn’t a hen. She—I mean
he
—is a rooster. We should have known. That’s why she—I mean
he
—has a bigger comb. That’s why she—I mean
he
—bosses all the other chickens. That’s why she—I mean
he
—is starting to crow. Peepers is a rooster!”
    Peepers cocked his head at them, as if to say
I’ve got it now, fellows!
He stretched out his neck again. And crowed and crowed and crowed.

Chapter 8
PINKIE PROMISE

    â€œThis is terrible!” said Daniel as he watched Peepers crow.
    â€œWhy?” asked Kelsey. “Now we can have baby chicks.”
    â€œRoosters are illegal. If Mr. Gruffalo finds out, he’ll call the police.”
    â€œWill they lock Peepers in jail?” asked Emmy. Her eyes were big.
    â€œWorse,” said Daniel. “We’ve got to save him. Protect him!”
    â€œI know! We can disguise him!” said Kelsey.
    â€œPut a pink bow on him. Then everyone will think he’s a girl chicken,” said Emmy.
    â€œWe need a chicken club.” Kelsey sat up. Thehens scratched for worms in the dirt. Peepers stood on top of the henhouse. Alert and tall. Watching for danger.
    â€œA club? You and your old clubs.” Daniel put his arms around his knees and laid his head against them. “We’ve got real problems. Big problems. If the neighbors complain, the police will take Peepers away. What could a club do?”
    â€œKeep Peepers a secret,” said Kelsey. “A secret club. For keeping secrets.”
    â€œI want to be in the club, too,” said Emmy. Daniel stood up so suddenly the tree house