"Look at me," said the mother, "you must hold your heads thus! and thus must you set your wings! Now! one, two! one, two! This it is which must help you out into the world!"
With this she flew a little way, and the young ones made a little clumsy hop—bump!—there lay they, for their bodies were heavy.
"I cannot fly!" said one of the young ones; "it's no use my trying!" and crept up to the nest again.
"Wilt thou be frozen to death here, when winter comes?" asked the mother. "Shall the boys come and hang thee, and burn thee, and wring thy neck? Shall I go and call them?"
"O, no!" said the young stork; and so hopped again on the roof, like the others.
On the third day after that it could regularly fly a little, and so they thought that they could now rest awhile in the air. They tried to do so, but—bump!—there they tumbled, and so they were obliged to flutter their wings again.
The boys were now down in the street once more, and sung their rhyme:—
"Stork, stork, fly."
"Shall not we fly down and peck their eyes out?" said the young ones.
"No, let them be," said the mother, "and listen to me, that is far wiser. One, two, three! Now we fly round, higher than ever! One, two, three! Now to the left of the chimney!—see, that was very well done! and the last stroke of the wings was so beautiful and correct, that I will give you leave to go down to the marsh with me, to-morrow! There will come a great number of pleasant stork-families there, with their children; let me have the happiness of seeing that mine are the nicest, and that they can make a bow and courtesy; that looks so well, and gains respect!"