Kiwi.
Then, out from the dark wood there came a motley throng; bright golden-eyed green lizards, their long tails waving like shining river-weeds; sleek-coated rats, and solemn Maori hens; fat caterpillars waddling through the grass, and snorting kiwis[3] following close behind; while sombre-coloured crows and starlings tripped on in pairs.
Now, by the laws of fairy-land, no bird could feed upon insects so long as the night revels were kept up; nevertheless the caterpillars did not feel quite comfortable, for many a sly poke they got to “hurry up” from the kiwis’ long bills, with which these birds gave disappointed snaps, as they saw such tempting morsels near by.
Then came whole families of green parrakeets, proudly holding up their red-crested heads, and chattering all the scandal of the forest; black-feathered Tuis[4] with their white neckties cleanly washed; tiny Fantails,[5] their fans spread out, for the night was warm: and Robins too, were there, some in dark grey garb, and some in black with yellow and white breast-fronts newly smoothed;—and as the fresh comers appeared, the music struck up with renewed vigour, and the glow-worms, nodding, made their lamps burn brighter still.
Parson-bird or Tui.
All were soon joining in the dance,—fairies, birds and insects, and Hal and Cis, seeing Santa Claus sit down under a tree-fern, joined too.
“We’re sorry we are so big,” said Hal, “but Cis and I will try and not knock any of you over. Would you mind tucking your tail up under your arm?” he said to a young lady lizard near whom he was dancing in a waltz. “Allow me to help you;” and help he did, for the tail came off in his hand! “I beg your pardon,” said Hall.