III.

Reading Comprehension Skills Questionnaire

The Beautiful Horse

By D. Paulo Dizon

ONE day my father brought home a beautiful horse. She was the most beautiful white horse
anyone in our barrio of Pulong-Masle had ever laid eyes on. She had long and slender legs,
a silky mane, and a flowing tail. She was, however, not the kind of horse anyone in our barrio
would have any use for. She did not seem fit for pulling a rig. She was good only for the
track, or for riding but races were held only during the town funeral, and even the rich
bachelors in town did not ride horses anymore. They preferred the bicycle. What good was
such a beautiful white horse in Pulong-Masle?
My father did not exactly bring the beautiful white horse home. She followed him. When my
father would stop to pull a thorn out of his foot or to scratch a bite on his leg, the horse would
stop, too, and swish her tail from side to side. When my father continued on his way, the
horse too would come along. She had a grand way of walking, proud and confident.

“Why, Estong,” the people at the roadside or in the windows would say, “how did you come
by such a beautiful horse?” But my father only smiled and stared straight ahead; he was as
proud as the horse that was following him. He did not even notice my sister Victa and me.
Victa and I walked behind among the other children.
The people we passed also wondered how my father had come by such a beautiful horse.
He couldn’t have bought her because he did not have that much money; everybody knew he
earned no more that what was needed, and sometimes less.
I overheard some of the people say that my father might have stolen the horse, and I felt
angry with my father and with the people and at the horse, and I knew my sister Victa also
felt the same way. When I looked at her, I saw tears in her eyes.
Father was suddenly a stranger to us. He did not seem to be our father at all, and for the
moment we hated him. In the past when we met him on the road on his way home, he would
hug us or lift Victa or me way up in the air. We used to be very happy when Father came
home.

When we reached home, Father led the horse straight through the yard into the field. He sat
down on a fallen bamboo and watched the horse beginning to graze. So absorbed was he in
the sight of the beautiful horse, he didn’t notice Victa and me sitting beside him. For a long
time we sat there watching the horse cropping the wild grass. We did not say anything to one
another. It was getting dark.
“What a beauty!” Father said, sighing dreamily and gazing at the horse. “What beautiful
legs!”
“They are not beautiful,” Victa said, curling her lower lip. “They are thin and weak.”
That was when Father perhaps first took notice of our presence. He turned his face toward
Victa and all of a sudden there was anger in his dark eyes.

“Don’t say that,” Father said. “You know they are not thin and weak. They are slender and
beautiful, are they not? Yes, they are. She is a beautiful horse.”
“Doesn’t she belong to us, Father?” I asked.

“She is such a beauty,” Father sighed again, staring admiringly at the horse. She kept on
swishing her tail, which was long and flowing and silky, as if she were enjoying herself
immensely.

I was beginning to suspect the people were right after all. I trembled at the thought of my
father stealing a horse. He used to tell us how good it was to be honest and truthful and
obedient, and now, I thought, he wasn’t any of those things he had told us to be.

Presently I heard my mother calling Victa and me, and then the chapel bells rang out the
Angelus.

“Come up now, Victa, Marcos,” Mother shouted from the window.

Victa crossed the yard and climbed up the stairs. I sat, silent, beside Father, who seemed to
be immersed in thought. Then, suddenly, my mother was with us.
“Where did you get that horse, Estong?” she asked.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Father asked, as though he were talking to nobody in particular.
He didn’t even bother to turn his eyes away from the horse.
“Whose horse is that?” Mother asked again.

Without turning his face, father said, unconcerned, “I don’t know.”

“How come she is here in our own backyard?” Mother asked.

“She’s a beautiful horse,” Father said.

“Let us go in now,” Mother said. “Supper is ready.”

Father did not make the slightest move. He sat silent, his chin cupped in the hollow of his
hand, his elbows resting on his thighs. He continued staring dreamily at the horse.

“Let us go in now,” Mother said. “Supper is ready.”

“Father did not make the slightest move. He sat silent, his chin cupped in the hollow of his
hand, his elbows resting on his thighs. He continued staring dreamily at the horse.

“Let us go, Marcos,” Mother said, pulling me along.

We ate silently, for Mother was angry. We, Victa and I, knew better than to talk when Mother
was in that mood. Finally she started mumbling, at first to herself, and then to us.

“I wonder where he got that horse,” she said.

“Ask him, Mother,” Victa said.

“The people on the road said he might have stolen it,” I put in.

“Just who was it who said that?” Mother asked, suddenly florid with anger. “Tell me, who was
it who said that?”

“I do not know,” I said. “I just heard some people say it.”

“Let us go right now. Point them out to me and I will show them how to judge your father
better. Let us go, Marcos. Right now. Come.” She took me by the arm, tugging me toward
the stairs.

But just as we were to leave the house, we met father coming up.

“You and your beautiful white horse, with her long, slender legs!” Mother cried at Father.

“Now don’t say anything harsh against that horse, woman,” Father said. “Don’t say bad
words about your cousin Barang.”

“Why, what has my dead cousin to do with that beast, Estong? Don’t you start invoking the
dead, you . . . you . . . impious . . . .”

“That horse is the reincarnation of your cousin Barang,” Father declared solemnly. Father
was a good jester, he loved to laugh, but this time he was dead serious, and his voice
sounded sincere and stern.

Mother crossed herself three times, her eyes almost popping out. “What is the matter with
you, Estong?”

“I knew it the first time I saw her, that horse,” Father said, walking past us, and then seating
himself at the table. “The first time I saw her following me I knew she was somebody I used
to know. Only, I couldn’t remember who. Now look at the eyes. Just look at those eyes
tomorrow when the sun comes up. They are the eyes of your cousin Barang.”

Mother crossed herself again. “May she rest in peace,” she prayed, clasping her hands
across her breast. “Please, Lord, forgive my erring husband. And may the soul of cousin
Barang forgive these utterances!”

Father continued. “When I turned around and saw the horse’s face, I asked myself, ‘Where
did I see this face before?’ It was very familiar. And then in the backyard while she was
feeding, she wiggled her rump, and I remembered the way Barang used to wiggle her
buttocks when she was feeling funny.”

“Ohhh! . . .” Mother cried. “Heaven forgive him, for he does not know what he is saying. He is
touched in the head, my husband. Ohhh . . . What have we done to deserve this?”

“She is such a very beautiful horse, your cousin Barang is,” Father sighed.
“Where did you get that horse, Estong?” Mother wanted to know. “Tell me!” she pleaded.
“How is it she is here in our own yard?”

“She followed me, don’t know from where. But she just followed me. I told her to go her way
but she followed me just the same,” Father said.
“You did not sell this house and buy yourself that horse, Estong? Please tell us the truth.”

“I told you that she is your cousin Barang come to visit you,” Father said. “Now please let us
eat. I am hungry.”

The next morning Victa woke me. She was very excited. “Come quick,” she said. “Quick!”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Look at our aunt Barang,” she said. “She is still there.”

“Where?”

“In the backyard. Under the tamarind tree.”

I remembered what my father had said about the souls of the dead coming back to life in
another form. Father had been very fond of Aunt Barang. Many times he and my mother had
quarreled on her account. My mother did not like Aunt Barang very much, and when she
died she cried only during the funeral, but one could see how relieved she was afterward.
And now here she was again. Only, she was in the form of a beautiful white horse, come
back to life to torment my mother again. Why can’t the dead stay dead? I asked myself.

“Come, quick, Marcos,” Victa shouted. She had gone down the stairs again, so excited was
she. “Look at the eyes. They are the eyes of our aunt Barang.”

Mother was in the kitchen, silently doing her chores. She was beginning to take it all with
resignation. Poor old Mother. She must have felt very miserable.

I went downstairs into the yard and joined my sister. Father was sitting there on the fallen
bamboo, watching the reincarnation of our aunt Barang feed on the grass, swishing her long
tail from side to side.

“Look at her eyes,” Victa said to me.

True enough, they were the eyes of our Aunt Barang. Indeed, she couldn’t have been other
than our Aunt Barang.

The men came to take Aunt Barang sometime before noon that day. They were a couple of
strange-looking men in city clothes, a constabulary man, and some men from the barrio. One
of the strange-looking men was short and had a mustache and long hair. The other was tall
and carried a walking stick with a copper knob. The constabulary man said they were the
owners of the circus which had been set up in the town.

When they saw the horse browsing peacefully on the sward beyond our back yard, the circus
men rushed to her, stumbling over the bamboo trunk on which my father was sitting. They
hugged the horse and kissed her on the face as if she were their sister.

“Oh, my Minda Mora, my beautiful Minda Mora,” the taller of the two strange-looking men
said. “I missed you terribly. Terribly so. Oh, my beautiful Minda Mora.”
My father stood up. So bewildered was he by all this show of affection he could not utter a
word.
The shorter one with the mustache and the funny nest of long hair was talking to the
constabulary man. He was also very excited and very happy. Then the tall man took
something out of his trousers pocket and handed it to my Father. A couple of silver coins.

“Thank you very much for keeping our dear Minda in your yard,” the short funny man said to
my father. “We hope she did not give you too much trouble. Come to the circus in the town
tonight, and don’t forget to bring the children along. It is the best show there is. And thanks
again.”

For a long time after they left, we stood in the yard silently, sadly.

“I did not know Barang would turn out to be a circus lady,” Father said.

Directions: Multiple-Choice: Choose the letter of the correct answer.

A.The Beautiful Horse
One day my father brought home a beautiful horse. She was the most beautiful horse anyone in the
island of Masbate had ever laid eyes on. She had long and slender legs, a silky mane, and a flowing tail.
She was, however, not the kind of horse anyone in our barrio would have any use for. She was not even fit
for pulling a rig. She was good only for the track, or for riding; but races were held only during the town
festival, and even the rich bachelors in our town did not ride horses anymore. They preferred the bicycle.
What good was such a beautiful white horse in Masbate?
1. What is the purpose of the opening paragraph?
a. It tells the importance of the horse.
b. It tells the physical attributes of the horse.
c. It tells how the father got the horse.
d. It tells the use of the horse
2. What is the form of modern transport that was mentioned in the paragraph?
a. Horse
b. Bicycle
c. Track
d. Rig
3. “She was the most beautiful horse anyone in Masbate had ever laid eyes on … She was, however,
not the kind of horse anyone in our barrio would have any use for.” This means
a. Beauty is not a measure of value.
b. Beauty create intimidation.
c. Value does not depend on physical attribute.
d. Value lies more in the capabilities of being.
4. What is the best answer to the question at the end of the paragraph?
a. For display and entertainment
b. For work and as means of transport
c. For races and other forms of competition
d. For business purposes

I overheard some of the people say that my father might have stolen the horse, and I felt angry with
my father and with the people and with the horse, and I knew my sister Victa also felt the same. When I
looked at her, I saw tears in her eyes.

5. If you were one of the children, what would you feel regarding the situation?
a. anger c. doubt
 b. understanding d. proud
6. What will you do if you are confronted with suck kind of predicament?
a. I will believe what the people say
b. I trust my father’s character, I knew him very well
c. I have to weigh things and verify facts.
d. I will leave the crowd and ignore their wrong judgment.

I was beginning to suspect the people were right after all. I tremble at the thought of my father
stealing a horse. He used to tell us how good it was to be honest and truthful and obedient, and now, I
thought he wasn’t any of those things he had told us to be.

7. What made the child doubt his father’s character traits?

a. The people’s allegations against his father c. Their family’s poor situation
b. His father’s abrupt change of behavior d. His father’s overwhelming affection to
the horse

“Where did you get that horse Estong?” my mother asked.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Father asked, as though he were talking to nobody in particular. He
didn’t even bother to turn his eyes away from the horse.
“Whose horse is that?” Mother asked again.
Without turning his faces, Father said unconcerned, “I don’t know.”
“How comes she is here in our own backyard?” mother asked.
“She’s beautiful horse.” Father said.
“Let us go in now,” Mother said. “Supper is ready.”
Father did not make the slightest move. He sat silent, his chin cupped in the hollow of his hands, his
elbows resting on his thighs. He continued staring dreamily on the horse.

8. What was the response of the father to the mother’s inquiry?

a. He was very enthusiastic in answering the question.
b. He gave her an indefinite response.
c. He was so engrossed with the horse that he gave no response.
d. He was not mindful for her presence.
9. “Let us go in now,” Mother said. “Supper is ready.” This means:
a. Withdrawal
b. Agreement
c. Hostility
d. Submission

I remembered what my father has said about soul of the dead coming back to life in another
form. Father had been very fond of Aunt Barang. Many times he and my mother had quarreled on her
account. My mother did not like Aunt Barang very much, and when she died she cried only during funeral,
but one could see how relieved she was afterward. And now here she was again. Only, she was in the
form of a beautiful white horse, come back to life to torment my mother again. Why can’t a dead stay
dead? I asked myself.

10. Give the proper sequence of the events in the paragraph.

A. Father had been very fond of Aunt Barang.
B. Why can’t a dead stay dead?
C. He and my mother had quarreled on her account.
D. My mother did not like Aunt Barang very much.
E. Mother cried on during the funeral.
a. B-C-D-E-A
b. A-E-B-C-D
 c. A-C-D-E-B
d. E-A-B-C-D
11. “I remember what my father had said about the soul of the dead coming back to life in other
form.”
What is your interpretation of this?
a. It is true that reincarnation happens in this world.
b. There is no poor regarding such kind of belief.
c. Theories about life and death differ depending on the religion.
d. Only God knows the truth about life and death.
12. What is your perception if there is truth in the belief that humans are reincarnated in the form of
animals?
a. Human beings might harm their relatives who passed away when they take the form of
animals.
b. Reincarnation is a serious matter that needs in-depth investigation.
c. We must avoid killing animals; instead, let us protect their welfare.
d. Human beings and animals should love each other.

Thank you very much for keeping our dear Minda in your yard,” the short funny man said to my
father. “We hope she did not give you too much trouble. Come to the circus in town tonight, and
don’t forget to bring the children along. It is the best show there is. And thanks again.”
For a long time after they had left, we stood in the yard silently, sadly. “I did not know Barang
would turn out to be a circus lady,” Father said.
13. Which of this is not shown or presented in a circus?
a. A man eating a whole live chicken.
b. Animal shows and exhibition.
c. Memorabilia auction.
d. Ferris wheel and caterpillar rides.
14. What is the realization of the father at the end of the story?
a. Barang is now a circus lady.
b. The horse is not Barang.
c. He is sad to lose the horse.
d. He will always remember Barang and the horse.
15. What activities do people do at the circus?
a. Watch shows and play games.
b. Entertain the animals.
c. Feed the animals.
d. Join the exhibitions.
16. What do you think does the father intend to do?
a. Go to the circus tonight and watch the horse’s show.
b. Stay at home and lament the horse’s plight.
c. Give up the horse to the circus man.
d. Get the horse out of the circus.
17. What is the appropriate response to the invitation of the circus men?
a. Say yes, the circus is such a nice place to go?
b. Say no, it is conduct unbecoming to accept an offer from some strangers.
c. Go there immediately, it is important that you accompany the horse.
d. Refuse the offer, seeing the horse at the circus will just make father sad.

B. My Brother’s Peculiar Chicken by Alejandro Roces

My brother Kiko once had a very peculiar chicken. It was peculiar because no one could tell
whether it was a rooster or a hen. My brother claimed it was a rooster. I claimed it was a hen.
We almost got whipped because we argued too much.

The whole question began early one morning. Kiko and I were driving the chickens from the
cornfield. The corn had just been planted, and the chickens were scratching the seeds out for
food. Suddenly we heard the rapid flapping of wings. We turned in the direction of the sound
and saw two chickens fighting in the far end of the field. We could not see the birds clearly as
they were lunging at each other in a whirlwind of feathers and dust.

“Look at that rooster fight!” my brother said, pointing exactly at one of the chickens. “Why, if I
had a rooster like that, I could get rich in the cockpits.”

“Let’s go and catch it,” I suggested.

“No, you stay here. I will go and catch it,” Kiko said.

My brother slowly approached the battling chickens. They were so busy fighting that they did
not notice him. When he got near them, he dived and caught one of them by the leg. It
struggled and squawked. Kiko finally held it by both wings and it became still. I ran over where
he was and took a good look at the chicken.

“Why, it is a hen,” I said.

“What is the matter with you?” my brother asked. “Is the heat making you sick?”

“No. Look at its face. It has no comb or wattles.”

“No comb and wattles! Who cares about its comb or wattles? Didn’t you see it in fight?”

“Sure, I saw it in fight. But I still say it is a hen.”

“Ahem! Did you ever see a hen with spurs on its legs like these? Or a hen with a tail like this?”

“I don’t care about its spurs or tail. I tell you it is a hen. Why, look at it.”

The argument went on in the fields the whole morning. At noon we went to eat lunch. We
argued about it on the way home. When we arrived at our house Kiko tied the chicken to a peg.
The chicken flapped its wings and then crowed.

“There! Did you hear that?” my brother exclaimed triumphantly. “I suppose you are going to tell
me now that hens crow and that carabaos fly.”

“I don’t care if it crows or not,” I said. “That chicken is a hen.”

We went into the house, and the discussion continued during lunch.
“It is not a hen,” Kiko said. “It is a rooster.”

“It is a hen,” I said.

“It is not.”

“It is.”

“Now, now,” Mother interrupted, “how many times must Father tell you, boys, not to argue
during lunch? What is the argument about this time?”

We told Mother, and she went out look at the chicken.

“That chicken,” she said, “is a binabae. It is a rooster that looks like a hen.”

That should have ended the argument. But Father also went out to see the chicken, and he said,
“Have you been drinking again?” Mother asked.

“No,” Father answered.

“Then what makes you say that that is a hen? Have you ever seen a hen with feathers like that?”

“Listen. I have handled fighting cocks since I was a boy, and you cannot tell me that that thing is
a rooster.”

Before Kiko and I realized what had happened, Father and Mother were arguing about the
chicken by themselves. Soon Mother was crying. She always cried when she argued with Father.

“You know very well that that is a rooster,” she said. “You are just being mean and stubborn.”

“I am sorry,” Father said. “But I know a hen when I see one.”

“I know who can settle this question,” my brother said.

“Who?” I asked.

“The teniente del Barrio, chief of the village.”

The chief was the oldest man in the village. That did not mean that he was the wisest, but
anything always carried more weight if it is said by a man with gray hair. So my brother untied
the chicken and we took it to the chief.

“Is this a male or a female chicken?” Kiko asked.

“That is a question that should concern only another chicken,” the chief replied.
“My brother and I happen to have a special interest in this particular chicken. Please give us an
answer. Just say yes or no. Is this a rooster?”

“It does not look like any rooster I have ever seen,” the chief said.

“Is it a hen, then?” I asked.

“It does not look like any hen I have ever seen. No, that could not be a chicken. I have never
seen like that. It must be a bird of some other kind.”

“Oh, what’s the use!” Kiko said, and we walked away.

“Well, what shall we do now?” I said.

“I know that,” my brother said. “Let’s go to town and see Mr. Cruz. He would know.”

Mr. Eduardo Cruz lived in a nearby town of Katubusan. He had studied poultry raising in the
University of the Philippines. He owned and operated the largest poultry business in town. We
took the chicken to his office.

“Mr. Cruz,” Kiko said, “is this a hen or a rooster?”

Mr. Cruz looked at the bird curiously and then said:

“Hmmm. I don’t know. I couldn’t tell in one look. I have never run across a chicken like this
before.”

“Well, is there any way you can tell?”

“Why, sure. Look at the feathers on its back. If the feathers are round, then it’s a hen. If they are
pointed, it’s a rooster.”

The three of us examined the feathers closely. It had both.

“Hmmm. Very peculiar,” said Mr. Cruz.

“Is there any other way you can tell?”

“I could kill it and examined its insides.”

“No. I do not want it killed,” my brother said.

I took the rooster in my arms and we walked back to the barrio.

Kiko was silent most of the way. Then he said:

“I know how I can prove to you that this is a rooster.”

“How?” I asked.

“Would you agree that this is a rooster if I make it fight in the cockpit and it wins?”

“If this hen of yours can beat a gamecock, I will believe anything,” I said.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll take it to the cockpit this Sunday.”

So that Sunday we took the chicken to the cockpit. Kiko looked around for a suitable opponent.
He finally picked a red rooster.

“Don’t match your hen against that red rooster.” I told him. “That red rooster is not a native
chicken. It is from Texas.”

“I don’t care where it came from,” my brother said. “My rooster will kill it.”

“Don’t be a fool,” I said. “That red rooster is a killer. It has killed more chickens than the fox.
There is no rooster in this town that can stand against it. Pick a lesser rooster.”

My brother would not listen. The match was made and the birds were readied for the killing.
Sharp steel gaffs were tied to their left legs. Everyone wanted to bet on the red gamecock.

The fight was brief. Both birds were released in the centre of the arena. They circled around
once and then faced each other. I expected our chicken to die of fright. Instead, a strange thing
happened. A lovesick expression came into the red rooster’s eyes. Then it did a love dance. That
was all our chicken needed. It rushed at the red rooster with its neck feathers flaring. In one
lunge, it buried its spurs into its opponent’s chest. The fight was over.

“Tiope! Tiope! Fixed fight!” the crowd shouted.

Then a riot broke out. People tore bamboo benches apart and used them as clubs. My brother
and I had to leave through the back way. I had the chicken under my arm. We ran toward the
coconut groves and kept running till we lost the mob. As soon as we were safe, my brother said:

“Do you believe it is a rooster now?”

“Yes,” I answered.

I was glad the whole argument was over.

Just then the chicken began to quiver. It stood up in my arms and cackled with laughter.
Something warm and round dropped into my hand. It was an egg.

Directions: Multiple-Choice: Choose the letter of the correct answer.

 My brother Kiko had a very peculiar chicken. It was peculiar because no one could tell whether it
was a rooster or a hen. My brother claimed it was a hen. We almost got whipped because we argued so
much.
18. “My brother Kiko once had very peculiar chicken,”. Peculiar means
a. different c. strange
b. colorful d. fantastic
19. The reason for the brother’s argument was
a. Kiko believed that the chicken was a rooster.
b. The narrator believed that the chicken was a hen.
c. They disagree on the gender of the chicken.
d. They were both claiming the chicken.

The whole question began early in the morning. Kiko and I were driving the chicken from the
cornfield. The corn had just been planted, and the chickens were scratching the seeds out for food.
Suddenly we heard the rapid flapping of wings. We turned in the direction of the sound and saw two
chickens fighting in the far end of the field. We could not see the birds clearly as they were lunging at each
other at the whirlwind of feathers and dust.

20. How did they first recognize the peculiar chicken?

a. Through its boldness during a fight.
b. Through its colorful feathers.
c. Through its comb or wattles.
d. Through its spurs on it legs.
21. Where did they find the chicken and what time of the day?
a. On the farm, noontime
b. On the seashore, late afternoon
c. On the rice field, early afternoon
d. On the cornfield, early morning
22. What native features were presented to show that it happened somewhere in the Philippines?
a. chickens, cornfield, brothers’ close attachment
b. chickens fighting, cornfield, brothers driving the chickens
c. cornfield, chickens scratching the seeds, two brothers
d. cornfield, chicken, two brothers

Before Kiko and I realized what had happened, Father and Mother were arguing about the
chicken by themselves. Soon Mother was crying. She always cried when she argues with Father.
“You know very well that that is a rooster,” she said.
“You are just being mean and stubborn.”
“I am sorry,” Father said. “But I know a hen when I see one.”

23. How did the parents of the boys try to help them in solving the argument?
a. They examined the chicken and made a unanimous appraisal.
b. They identified the physical characteristics of the chicken and agreed that it was a rooster.
c. They distinguish the physical features of a hen on the chicken.
d. They inspected the chicken and argued also about its characteristics.
24. If you were one of the children, how would you pacify your mother on such kind of situation?
a. I will agree on her stand on the issue.
b. I will tell her not to mind my father’s arguments.
c. I will tell her to stop crying, the issue is of no value.
d. I will show my sympathy to her claims.
25. “I am sorry,” Father said. “But I know a hen when I see one.” This means
a. He apologized but insisted on his claims.
b. He was sincere with his apology.
 c. He wanted to show that he’s better classifying chickens.
d. He wanted to appease his wife and settle the argument.
26. If you were the father, how will you solve the problem at hand?
a. I will bring the chicken to a veterinary doctor for examination.
b. I will kill the chicken and identify its parts.
c. I will sell the chicken to end the argument.
d. I will tell my wife and children to stop arguing about the chicken.
The fight was brief. Both birds were brought to the center of the arena. They circled around once
and then face each other. I expected our chicken to die or fight. Instead, a strange thing happened. A
lovesick expression comes into the red rooster’s eyes. Then it did a love dance. That was all our chicken
needed. It rushed to the red rooster with its neck feathers flaring. In one lunge it buried its spurs into
opponent’s chest. The fight was over.
27. What ultimate solution did Kiko think of in order to identify the chicken’s gender?
a. He brought it to the teniente del barrio.
b. He brought it to the poultry raiser/owner.
c. He brought it to an agronomist.
d. He brought it to a cockpit.
28. Organize Kiko’s course of actions by giving the proper sequence of the events.
A. He was glad the whole argument was over.
B. The rooster won the fight
C. He brought the chicken home.
D. He went to the cockpit.
E. Kiko found the chicken at the cornfield.
a. D-B-C-A-E
b. E-D-B-C-A
c. A-C-B-D-E
d. E-C-D-B-A
29. What will you do if you encounter the same problem?
a. I will examine the chicken myself.
b. I will bring it to some authorities.
c. I will not mind its queer features.
d. I will observe it and make conclusions later on.
30. How did the peculiar chicken defeat its opponent.
a. The chicken was indeed brave and strong.
b. The rooster got attracted with the chicken.
c. The rooster become confused about the fight.
d. The chicken had magical powers and strength.

“Do you believe it is a rooster now?

“Yes,” I answered.
I was glad the whole argument was over. Just then the chicken began to quiver. It stood up
in my arms and cackled with laughter. Something warm and round dropped into my hand. It was an
egg!
31. After winning the fight and laying egg, what conclusion can you formulate about chicken?
a. The chicken is bisexual.
b. The chicken is a brave hen.
c. The chicken is one a million.
d. The chicken is a rooster.
32. What is your interpretation of the ending of the story?
a. It is non-factual narration.
b. It can happen in real life.
c. It primarily aims to entertain readers.
d. It shows the native culture of Filippinos.
33. What do you think is the feeling of the two brothers after the chicken laid an egg?
a. They felt disappointed and uncertain.
b. They argued again insisting their claims.
c. They were amazed and shocked.
d. They were sad and frustrated.
34. If you own the chicken, what is the best thing to do?
a. Sell it, so the new owner will take care of the problem.
b. Kill it and serve for dinner.
c. Examine it well and allow it to multiply.
d. Enjoy the arguments of people regarding the chicken.
35. What the lesson that you have learned from the story?
a. Life is something unexplainable.
b. There are happenings that are difficult to understand.
c. Animals do have unusual characteristics that occur rarely.
d. It is normal to have animals that look and act different.