the books of my childhood

One of the things I have been doing* over the past few years is tracking down and buying copies of books I loved when I was a kid. Many of the books I loved were either from the school library or the public library and I didn't own copies of them - or others were books I wore out through sheer love. It was a real coup the day I found a copy of "No Flying in the House," which was sort of the prototypical "childhood memory book" - I read it during "free reading time" in 1st grade (do they still do that for kids? give them 15 or 30 minutes at the end of the day to just read?), remembered the story but forgot the title and the author, and then, in my 20s, rediscovered the book. I also tracked down copies of all the Moomintroll books (of course) for my personal library, and "The 101 Dalmations" (the Dodie Smith version, not the Disney version). Recently, I found a copy of "The Secret in Miranda's Closet", which I originally got as one of those Scholastic paperbacks (does anyone else remember the little flyers printed on the crummy newsprint, with the long skinny order form on the last page? I bought a lot of books through them when I was in primary school). One of the surprising things about rereading books you read as a child is that you don't remember everything. In "Secret", Miranda has a lovely antique doll she has been given. When she and her mom fall on hard times, she tries to sell the doll. A rapacious and rude antique dealer tries to take advantage of her, offering something like $15 for the doll. To which Miranda responds, "That's just chicken****"

And the word was in the book. I mean, the whole word, not starred out, not euphemized.

I do not remember that from my old Scholastic paperback copy. And, having been a prim and sheltered child, I think I would have. I wonder if Scholastic bowdlerized the versions they published, and this used hardback copy I have is the "real McCoy".

*I'm not sure why. It's not like I'm wanting kids or anything