Soon the Hawk and the Albatross and even the brave little Skylark fell behind, and the Eagle began to chuckle to himself at his easy victory.  “Where are you, poor little Wren?” he cried very loudly, for he fancied that the tiny bird must be left far, far below.

“Here I am, here I am, away up above you, Master Eagle!” piped the Wren in a weak little voice.  And the Eagle fancied the Wren was so far up in the air that even his sharp eyes could not spy the tiny creature.  “Dear me!” said he to himself.  “How extraordinary that he has passed me.”  So he redoubled his speed and flew on, higher, higher.

Presently he called out again in a tremendous voice, “Well, where are you now?  Where are you now, poor little Wren?”

Once more he heard the tiny shrill voice from somewhere above piping, “Here I am, here I am, nearer the sun than you, Master Eagle.  Will you give up now?”

Of course the Eagle would not give up yet.  He flew on, higher and higher, till the garden and its flock of patient birds waiting for their king grew dim and blurry below.  And at last even the mighty wings of the Eagle were weary, for he was far above the clouds.  “Surely,” he thought, “now the Wren is left miles behind.”  He gave a scream of triumph and cried, “Where are you now, poor little Wren?  Can you hear me at all, down below there?”

But what was his amazement to hear the same little voice above his head shrilling, “Here I am, here I am, Sir Eagle.  Look up and see me, look!” And there, sure enough, he was fluttering above the Eagle’s head.  “And now, since I have mounted so much higher than you, will you agree that I have won?”

“Yes, you have won, little Wren.  Let us descend together, for I am weary enough,” cried the Eagle, much mortified; and down he swooped, on heavy, discouraged wings.

“Yes, let us descend together,” murmured the Wren, once more perching comfortably on the Eagle’s head.  And so down he rode on this convenient elevator, which was the first one invented in this world.

When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, the other birds set up a cry of greeting.

“Hail, King Eagle!” they sang.  “How high you flew!  How near the sun!  Did he not scorch your Majesty’s feathers?  Hail, mighty king!” and they made a deafening chorus.  But the Eagle stopped them.

“The Wren is your king, not I,” he said.  “He mounted higher than I did.”

“The Wren?  Ha-ha!  The Wren!  We can’t believe that The Wren flew higher than you?  No, no!” they all shouted.  But just then the Eagle lighted on a tree, and from the top of his head hopped the little Wren, cocking his head and ruffling himself proudly.

“Yes, I mounted higher than he,” he cried, “for I was perched on his head all the while, ha-ha!  And now, therefore, I am king, small though I be.”

Now the Eagle was very angry when he saw the trick that had been played upon him, and he swooped upon the sly Wren to punish him.  But the Wren screamed, “Remember, remember your promise never to injure me or mine!” Then the Eagle stopped, for he was a noble bird and never forgot a promise.  He folded his wings and turned away in disgust.