We might as weel gang.

Better put it back, Freckles.

It's just out, and it may chill.

Ye will probably hae twa the morn." Freckles crept into the log and carefully deposited the baby beside the egg.

When he came back, he said: "I made a big mistake not to be bringing the egg out with the baby, but I was fearing to touch it.
It's shaped like a hen's egg, and it's big as a turkey's, and the beautifulest blue--just splattered with big brown splotches, like me book said, precise.