As Mogey hefted each bale of straw onto the wagon, Smush bound it tightly with red licorice ropes. The pals found that the dairy cows who ate straw baled in this way gave milk that was pre-Nestle Quik'd, saving them both time and the ghastly visage of plain white milk.
"Smush," Mogey asked, "would you say I have a loud mouth?"
Smush pondered for a moment. "A loud tummy? Yes."
"Especially before tea time," Mogey agreed.
"But a loud mouth? I wouldn't say so. Not especially."
"That's exactly what I told the fellow at the crossroads. I was in the good wagon with Measly Pete in the reins, and he got us into the intersection first. Yet some gent comes screaming through with a four-in-hand and he tried to go ahead of us. So I says to the man, I says, 'Oi! It's my turn!' And he says to me, he says, 'Fine then! Go ahead, loudmouth!'"
"That's some story," said Smush, tying down another bale of straw. "What'd Mr. Four-in-hand have to say when you disputed his claim?"
"It was the strangest thing," Mogey replied. "He asked Measly Pete for his thoughts on the matter."
"He wanted our draft mule's opinion about whether you're a loudmouth?"
"That's right. And would you believe it, Measly Pete looked me straight in the eye and nodded his head!"
"Well then, I guess that settles it," Smush noted, taking a sneaky nibble of red licorice rope. "I'll be preserved in a jar of ploughman's pickle before I disagree with Measly Pete."
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