“You are a very rude bird, Jenny Wren.”
“Am I, Cock Robin? There are various opinions about that. What a great, fat, clumsy bird you are, to be sure! I would not have you for a husband though there were not another bird in the garden.”
“You will perhaps wait until you are asked, Miss Wren,” replied Robinette, feeling he had better retire from the argument after this retort, for Jenny, like all females, would try to have the last word.
Polly had been watching the birds fluttering towards each other, and was a little fearful Robinette might be rough with Jenny, so she was glad to see them part company after simply speaking, as she thought.
This is the only incident worth mentioning that occurred during the winter months. Robinette’s life was happy and comfortable. Free to come and go as he pleased, he always felt himself a guest—never a prisoner.
At last winter was over, and the garden was beginning to have more attractions. There were some rather pretty Miss Robins flying about, and our bird thought he must go a-courting. He could not easily make up his mind whether he should bring a wife into the house, or whether he should go and live in the garden with her. Finally he decided on the latter plan.
One very fine morning he dressed his feathers most carefully, saw that each one was lying exactly over the other, that his brown coat was perfect and his red waist-coat faultless. He practised his singing until his love-song was all he could wish it. He was wonderfully well satisfied with himself; but Jenny Wren’s impertinent speeches would recur to his mind. The words fat and clumsy had especially annoyed him, and he never could altogether rid himself of their effect.
As he flew past the greenhouse he saw a bucket with pure, clear water in it. He thought he would rest on the edge and take a drink. Imagine his delight when he saw reflected in the water a perfectly beautiful cock robin, as charming a bird as any one could desire to see. After such a vision, what cared he for Jenny Wren and her impudence? Away he went, flying up and down the garden, quite sure that no Miss Robin in her senses would say “no” to him.
He rested a while on the branch of an apple-tree, while he meditated on the various Miss Robins, and considered to which he should pay his addresses. He was startled by a slight movement of some leaves just beneath him, and on looking down to find the cause, he saw his too candid friend Jenny.
“So you are come out a-courting?” said she. “You are not a bit thinner. Which of the Miss Robins do you think will have you—a fat, over-fed house-bird?”