"Don't talk about snakes while we are flying up here," said stork-mamma. "It only puts ideas into the children's heads which can't be gratified."
"Are those the high mountains of which I heard tell?" asked Helga, in the swan's plumage.
"They are storm clouds driving on beneath us," replied her mother.
"What are yonder white clouds that rise so high?" asked Helga again.
"Those are the mountains covered with perpetual snow which you see yonder," replied her mother.
And they flew across the lofty Alps towards the blue Mediterranean.
"Africa's land! Egypt's strand!" sang, rejoicingly, in her swan's plumage, the daughter of the Nile, as from the lofty air she saw her native land looming in the form of a yellowish wavy stripe of shore.
And all the birds caught sight of it, and hastened their flight.
"I can scent the Nile mud and wet frogs," said stork-mamma; "I begin to feel quite hungry. Yes; now you shall taste something nice; and you will see the maraboo bird, the crane, and the ibis. They all belong to our family, though they are not nearly so beautiful as we. They give themselves great airs, especially the ibis. He has been quite spoilt by the Egyptians, for they make a mummy of him and stuff him with spices. I would rather be stuffed with live frogs, and so would you, and so you shall. Better have something in one's inside while one is alive than to be made a fuss with after one is dead. That's my opinion, and I am always right."