He looked down and he was startled when he saw that his foot was many
times its usual size. Moreover, it did not look like a foot at all, being
a strange, huge, shapeless thing.
Old Mr. Crow was alarmed. Never in all his life had he found himself in
such a plight. He stayed at home only long enough to tie his foot up in a
bandage, which made it look bigger than ever. And then he hurried off as
fast as he could fly to call upon Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who was said to
be an excellent doctor.
Aunt Polly was at home. And since Mr. Crow could not crawl inside her
house, she received him in her dooryard.
As soon as she looked at Mr. Crow's foot Aunt Polly Woodchuck threw up
both her hands.
"You have gout!" she cried. "And it's the worst case I ever saw."
That made Mr. Crow feel proud and happy.
"What about a cure?" he inquired. "I shouldn't like to have my foot like
this always. If you could cure it in a week I would be satisfied. But I
want at least a week in which to show my foot to my friends."
"You'll be lucky if you're better in a month," said Aunt Polly Woodchuck.
"You must be very careful about what you eat. You may have all the
ginseng and Jimson weed and elecampane that you wish.
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