| "To-day I must die, I and no other! To-morrow my brother." |
"O foolish little bird," said Saint Peter. "You boasted that you made the summer. But see! The Lord's will has sent us back to the middle of winter, to punish your boasting. You shall not die, he will send the sun again to warm you. But hereafter beware how you take too much credit for your little efforts."
Since that time March has ever been a treacherous and a changeful month. Then the Thrush thinks not of marriage, but of his lesson learned in past days, and wraps himself in his warmest feathers, waiting for the Lord's will to be done. He is no longer boastful in his song, but sings it humbly and sweetly to the Lord's glory, thanking him for the summer which his goodness sends every year to happy bird and beast and child of man.
Now after this adventure with the Thrush, Christ and Saint Peter went upon their journey for many miles. At last, weary and hungry, they passed a Baker's shop. From the window came the smell of new warm bread baking in the oven, and Christ sent Saint Peter to ask the Baker for a loaf. But the Baker, who was a stingy fellow, refused.
"Go away with you!" he cried. "I give no bread to lazy beggars!"
"I ask it for my Master, who has traveled many miles and is most faint and weary," said Saint Peter. But the Baker frowned and shook his head, then strode into the inner shop, banging the door after him.
The Baker's wife and six daughters were standing at one side when these things happened, and they heard all that took place. They were generous and kind-hearted bodies, and tears stood in their eyes at the Baker's rough words. As soon as he had gone out they wrapped up the loaf and gave it stealthily to Saint Peter saying,—
"Take the loaf for your Master, good man, and may he be refreshed by it."
Saint Peter thanked and blessed them and took the loaf to Christ. And for their charity the Lord set these good women in the sky as the Seven Stars,—you may see them to this day shining in love upon the sleeping world. But the wicked Baker he changed into a Cuckoo; and as long as he sings his dreary song, "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" in the spring, so long the Seven Stars are visible in the heaven, so folk say.