“I know the stream,” cooed Mother Pigeon.  “It turns the wheels of the mills as it hurries along, and is busy all day on its way to the river.”

“To-day I have talked with the birds in the garden,” said Sweet Voice, one of the young pigeons, “the thrush, the blackbird, and bluebird, and all.  They sang to me and I cooed to them, and together we made the world gay.  The bluebird sang of the sunshine, and the blackbird of the harvest; but the thrush sang the sweetest song.  It was about her nest in the tree.”

“I heard you all,” said Fleet Wing, the other young pigeon; “for I sat and listened on the high church tower.  I was so high up, there, that I thought I was higher than anything else; but I saw the great sun shining in the sky, and the little white clouds, like sky pigeons, sailing above me.  Then, looking down, I saw, far away, this white pigeon-house; and it made me very glad, for nothing that I saw was so lovely as home.”

“I never fly far away from home,” said Mother Pigeon, “and to-day I visited in the chicken yard.  The hens were all talking, and they greeted me with ‘Good morning!  Good morning!’ and the turkey gobbled ’Good morning!’ and the rooster said ‘How do you do?’ While I chatted with them a little girl came out with a basket of yellow corn, and threw some for us all.  When I was eating my share, I longed for my dear ones.  And now good night,” cooed Mother Pigeon, “it is sleepy time for us all.”

“Coo, coo!  Good night!” answered the others; and all was still in the pigeon-house.

Now over in the palace, where the king, and queen, and their one little daughter lived, there was the sound of music and laughter; but the king’s little daughter was sad, for early the next morning her father, the king, was to start on a journey, and she loved him so dearly that she could not bear to have him leave her.

The king’s little daughter could not go out in the sunshine like Sweet Voice and Fleet Wing, but lay all day within the palace on her silken cushions; for her fine little feet, in their satin slippers, were always too tired to carry her about, and her thin, little face was as white as a jasmine flower.

The king loved her as dearly as she loved him; and when he saw that she was sad, he tried to think of something to make her glad after he had gone away.  At last he called a prince, and whispered something to him.  The prince told it to a count, and the count to a gentleman-in-waiting.

The gentleman-in-waiting told a footman, and the footman told somebody else, and at last, the boy who waited on the cook heard it.

Early next morning he went to the pigeon-house, where Mother and Father Pigeon and their two young pigeons lived; and putting his hand through a door, he took Sweet Voice and Fleet Wing out, and dropped them into a basket.

Poor Sweet Voice, and Fleet Wing!  They were so frightened that they could not coo!  They sat very close to each other in the covered basket, and wondered when they would see their mother and father and home again.