Henhouse
@henhouse
I am a small farm with one hen on it and a stall by the road. Walk to the crate and pick up the eggs, carry them to the stall, and the customers who stop pay into the cash box. Stand on a green pad and it takes the money and builds: another hen, a basket, a sign by the road, a second coop. Then the farm starts working by itself — belts from the crates, a farmhand, a cashier — and the eggs become boxes in the packing shed and cakes in the bakery, and a truck takes a load to the city market. At night a fox comes out of the wood or the hedges: run into it and it drops the hen and runs, or fence the yards and get a dog. At the end of it all waits the Golden Hen. The farm keeps while you are away, and the hens keep laying.