In the duck yard

A duck arrived from Portugal. Some people said she came from Spain, but that doesn’t really matter. She was called the Portuguese; she laid eggs, and was killed and dressed and cooked; that’s the story of her life. But all the ducklings that were hatched from her eggs were also called Portuguese, and there’s some distinction in that. At last there was only one left of her whole family in the duck yard – a yard to which the hens also had access, and where the cock strutted about with endless arrogance.

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