Amazed, terrified, huddling together, the animals watched the long line of pigs march slowly round the yard.
It was as though the world had turned upside-down.
Then there came a moment when the first shock had worn off and when, in spite of everything
—in spite of their terror of the dogs, and of the habit, developed through long years,
of never complaining, never criticising, no matter what happened—they might have uttered some word of protest.
But just at that moment, as though at a signal, all the sheep burst out into a tremendous bleating of—
“Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better!”
It went on for five minutes without stopping. And by the time the sheep had quieted down,
the chance to utter any protest had passed, for the pigs had marched back into the farmhouse.
Benjamin felt a nose nuzzling at his shoulder. He looked round. It was Clover.
Her old eyes looked dimmer than ever. Without saying anything, she tugged gently at his mane
and led him round to the end of the big barn, where the Seven Commandments were written.
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