116
I looked around. Many households had a few chickens pecking around the hearth. Peep. It was coming from the egg on the table. There was a c***k, then a beak. A bewildered set of black eyes blinked at me from a feathered head slicked down with moisture. Someone behind me gasped. I turned. Annie’s hand was clapped over her mouth, and she was staring at the chick on the table. “Aunt Susanna,” Annie said, dropping her hand. “Is that . . . ?” She trailed off and pointed wordlessly at me. “Yes. That’s the glaem left over from Mistress Roydon’s new spell. Go. Fetch Goody Alsop.” Susanna spun her niece around and sent her back the way she came. “I didn’t get the egg into the bowl, Mistress Norman,” I apologized. “The spells didn’t work.” The still-wet chick set up a protest, one indignant pe
- Writer
