But the thrush piped gaily and shook his head.
"Not quite," he said. "I have always the fir trees, which don't lose their leaves; and I can live very many weeks yet on all the delicious berries in the wood."
"Let us stop squabbling," said the stork. "We had better consider together what we are to do."
"We can soon agree about that," answered the starling, "for we have no choice. We must travel. All my little ones can fly quite well now; we have been drilling every morning down in the meadow. I have already warned them that we shall be starting off one of these days."
The other birds thought this very sensible—all except the thrush, who thought there was no hurry. So they agreed to collect next day down in the meadow, and hold a grand review of the party that was to travel.
They flew off, each to his own quarters; but up under the roof sat the sparrow, who had heard all they had been saying.
"Ah, if only I could travel with them!" he said to himself. "I should so like to see foreign lands. My neighbour the swallow has told me how delightful it is. Such a lot of flies and cherries and corn, and it's so delightfully warm. But no one asks me to fly with him. I am only a poor sparrow, and the others are birds of wealth and position."
He sat thinking it all over for a long time, and the more he thought the sadder he became. When the swallow came home in the evening, the sparrow asked if he could not get him leave to travel with them.
