"Why should they?" enquired Twinkle. "They can't talk to the birds, Chub."
"Why not? We talk to them, don't we? And they talk to us. At least, the p'liceman and the eagle did."
"That's true," answered Twinkle, "and I don't understand it a bit. I must ask Mr. Bluejay to 'splain it to us."
"What's the use of a p'liceman in the forest?" asked Chubbins, after a moment's thought.
"I suppose," she replied, "that he has to keep the birds from being naughty. Some birds are just awful mischiefs, Chub. There's the magpies, you know, that steal; and the crows that fight; and the jackdaws that are saucy, and lots of others that get into trouble. Seems to me P'liceman Bluejay's a pretty busy bird, if he looks after things as he ought."
"Prob'ly he's got his hands full," said Chubbins.
"Not that; for he hasn't any hands, any more than we have. Perhaps you ought to say he's got his wings full," suggested Twinkle.
"That reminds me I'm hungry," chirped the boy-lark.
"Well, we've got the basket," she replied.
"But how can we eat cake and things, witched up as we are?"