ARCHIE ANGEL
By
. . . was a cherub. And like many terrestrial moppets, Archie pulled out all the stops at bedtime. He kicked. He screamed. He wished he lived where nobody minded manners, washed faces, combed hair or brushed teeth. Or went to bed. Archie got his wish. He soon found himself in a chicken coop. But alas, mannerless pullet society held few charms. His feathered friends chased him around the yard, left no bran mash for Archie, and when he tried to put his nose in the water for a drink, he didn't get anything to drink at all. It was a chastened Archie Angel who conceded that he wanted to go home. And forever after, when he had his wish, Archie minded his manners. The cherub and the chickens are feathery and cuddly, with that softness most children enjoy. Margot Austin has a flair for communicating a downy warmth in her black and white drawings. Pre-school bantams will cluck over this. Firmly stitched.