[Illustration:  Such a gorgeous coat!]

KING OF THE BIRDS

Once upon a time, when the world was very new and when the birds had just learned from Mother Magpie how to build their nests, some one said, “We ought to have a king.  Oh, we need a king of the birds very much!”

For you see, already in the Garden of Birds trouble had begun.  There were disputes every morning as to which was the earliest bird who was entitled to the worm.  There were quarrels over the best places for nest-building and over the fattest bug or beetle; and there was no one to settle these difficulties.  Moreover, the robber birds were growing too bold, and there was no one to rule and punish them.  There was no doubt about it; the birds needed a king to keep them in order and peace.

So the whisper went about, “We must have a king.  Whom shall we choose for our king?”

They decided to hold a great meeting for the election.  And because the especial talent of a bird is for flying, they agreed that the bird who could fly highest up into the blue sky, straight toward the sun, should be their king, king of all the feathered tribes of the air.

Therefore, after breakfast one beautiful morning, the birds met in the garden to choose their king.  All the birds were there, from the largest to the smallest, chirping, twittering, singing on every bush and tree and bit of dry grass, till the noise was almost as great as nowadays at an election of two-legged folk without feathers.  They swooped down in great clouds, till the sky was black with them, and they were dotted on the grass like punctuation marks on a green page.  There were so many that not even wise Mother Magpie or old Master Owl could count them, and they all talked at the same time, like ladies at an afternoon tea, which was very confusing.

Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about and saying pleasant things to every one, for he was a great favorite.  Gorgeous Goldfinch was there, in fine feather; and little Blackbird, who was then as white as snow.  There were the proud Peacock and the silly Ostrich, the awkward Penguin and the Dodo, whom no man living has ever seen.  Likewise there were the Jubjub Bird and the Dinky Bird, and many other curious varieties that one never finds described in the wise Bird Books,—­which is very strange, and sad, too, I think.  Yes, all the birds were there for the choosing of their king, both the birds who could fly, and those who could not. (But for what were they given wings, if not to fly?  How silly an Ostrich must feel!)

Now the Eagle expected to be king.  He felt sure that he could fly higher than any one else.  He sat apart on a tall pine tree, looking very dignified and noble, as a future king should look.  And the birds glanced at one another, nodded their heads, and whispered, “He is sure to be elected king.  He can fly straight up toward the sun without winking, and his great wings are so strong, so strong!  He never grows tired.  He is sure to be king.”