So, in a great company, they came fluttering, hopping, twittering up to the elm tree where Mother Magpie nestled comfortably in her new house.

“O wise Mother Magpie, dear Mother Magpie,” they cried, “teach us how to build our nests like yours, for it is growing night, and we are tired and sleepy.”

The Magpie said she would teach them if they would be a patient, diligent, obedient class of little birds.  And they all promised that they would.

She made them perch about her in a great circle, some on the lower branches of the trees, some on the bushes, and some on the ground among the grass and flowers.  And where each bird perched, there it was to build its nest.  Then Mother Magpie found clay and bits of twigs and moss and grass—­everything a bird could need to build a nest; and there is scarcely anything you can think of which some bird would not find very useful.  When these things were all piled up before her she told every bird to do just as she did.  It was like a great big kindergarten of birds playing at a new building game, with Mother Magpie for the teacher.

She began to show them how to weave the bits of things together into nests, as they should be made.  And some of the birds, who were attentive and careful, soon saw how it was done, and started nice homes for themselves.  You have seen what wonderful swinging baskets the Oriole makes for his baby-cradle?  Well, it was the Magpie who taught him how, and he was the prize pupil, to be sure.  But some of the birds were not like him, nor like the patient little Wren.  Some of them were lazy and stupid and envious of Mother Magpie’s cosy nest, which was already finished, while theirs was yet to do.

As Mother Magpie worked, showing them how, it seemed so very simple that they were ashamed not to have discovered it for themselves.  So, as she went on bit by bit, the silly things pretended that they had known all about it from the first—­which was very unpleasant for their teacher.

Mother Magpie took two sticks in her beak and began like this:  “First of all, my friends, you must lay two sticks crosswise for a foundation, thus,” and she placed them carefully on the branch before her.

“Oh yes, oh yes!” croaked old Daddy Crow, interrupting her rudely.  “I thought that was the way to begin.”

Mother Magpie snapped her eyes at him and went on, “Next you must lay a feather on a bit of moss, to start the walls.”

“Certainly, of course,” screamed the Jackdaw.  “I knew that came next.  That is what I told the Parrot but a moment since.”

Mother Magpie looked at him impatiently, but she did not say anything.  “Then, my friends, you must place on your foundation moss, hair, feathers, sticks, and grass—­whatever you choose for your house.  You must place them like this.”

“Yes, yes,” cried the Starling, “sticks and grass, every one knows how to do that!  Of course, of course!  Tell us something new.”