"Maybe I am a pigeon," I said, "since I am not a blackbird."
"No," he answered, "a runt like you could not be a pigeon."
The next morning the pigeon sprang from the gutter and flew away as fast as the wind. As I was lonely, I followed him. He flew faster and faster, but I kept up for a good while. At last my strength gave out and I fell down into a meadow.
I was stunned by the fall. When I came to my senses, two birds stood near by looking at me. One was a dainty little magpie; the other a soft-eyed turtle dove. The magpie kindly offered me some berries she had gathered.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"A blackbird or a pigeon," I said sadly. "I don't know which."
"Are you joking?" she cried. "You are a magpie."
"But magpies are not white," I said.