"Cooked meat! O, I haven't tasted a morsel since I left my father's house!" said Minnie, in delight. "Where could your mother have found the fire, though?"
"Not far off the woods are burning,--took fire in the dry season, as they often do,--and there were plenty of coals; so madam cut off the humming-bird's wing, and broiled it--O, my!--till it smells so nice that it made my mouth water to bring it to you!"
He lifted the cover, and there, on a green leaf, lay the dainty wing, all crisp and smoking now. Minnie relished her dinner more than words can tell.
CHAPTER XIX.
MOUSE.
Before Minnie was strong again, yellow-bird's eggs hatched, and both he and his mate were busy and anxious, all the time, with taking care of their nest full of little ones. She did not see her friends so often as formerly, and, when they came, their visits were hurried and short.
And, one by one, her other acquaintances grew forgetful, for birds and insects don't have such good memories as we, you know. Each was occupied with his own cares and amusements. Perhaps the truth was that they had grown tired of Minnie, as you grow tired, in time, of your prettiest playthings.
She felt all these changes. She remembered sadly what Master Squirrel had said, that his mother thought company a great deal of trouble, and herself, though a cunning body, of no use to any one.