But the boys went on singing, and pointed mockingly at the sentinel stork. Only one boy, whom they called Peter, said it was a shame to make game of animals, and he would not join in the singing at all.
The mother stork tried to comfort her young ones. "Don't mind them," she said; "see how quiet your father stands on one leg there."
"But we are afraid," said the little ones, drawing back their beaks into the nest.
The children assembled again on the next day, and no sooner did they see the storks than they again began their song:
"The first will be hanged,
The second be hit."
"Tell us, are we to be hanged and burned?" asked the young storks.
"No, no; certainly not," replied the mother. "You are to learn to fly, and then we shall pay a visit to the frogs. They will bow to us in the water and sing 'Croak! croak!' and we shall eat them up, and that will be a great treat."
"And then what?" questioned the young storks.
"Oh, then all the storks in the land will assemble, and the autumn sports will begin; only then one must be able to fly well, for that is very important. Whoever does not fly as he should will be pierced to death by the general's beak, so mind that you learn well, when the drill begins."
"Yes, but then, after that, we shall be killed, as the boys say. Hark! they are singing it again."