"This morning I could not get a single worm," said the starling, and shook his head wisely.
The stork came strutting along, and stood on one leg in the ploughed field just outside the garden, and looked most melancholy.
"I suppose none of you have seen a frog?" he asked. "There isn't one down in the marsh, and I have not had any breakfast to-day."
Then the thrush flew up and perched on the roof of the starlings' box.
"How crestfallen you all are," he said. "What is the matter with you?"
"Ah," answered the starling, "there's nothing else the matter, only the leaves are beginning to fall off the trees, and the butterflies and flies and worms are all eaten up."
"Yes, that is bad for you," said the thrush.
"Well, isn't it just as bad for you, you conceited creature?" said the swallow.