"Delicious!" replied the chickadee. "I think I have eaten more than a million insects' eggs in my life. I shall never tire of them."
"Where do you sleep?" Phyllis asked.
"In the fir-trees, to be sure," was the reply. "It is quite warm in there, among the many branches, and as soon as we waken we can get our breakfasts. There are all sorts of eggs and sleeping insects among the fir branches."
Phyllis looked from her own thick red leggings to the chickadee's light blue legs.
"Don't your feet get very cold?" she asked. "You surely need some leggings."
The chickadee chirruped and twittered and fluttered until Phyllis suddenly saw that he was laughing at her.
"I don't know what cold feet are!" he said. "I'm glad no one gave me red leggings for Christmas."
"What did you get for Christmas?"
"A wonderfully fine dinner spread on a white snow table-cloth under the cherry-tree!" replied the bird.
"Oh, did you come to my bird feast?" cried the little girl. "I spread crumbs and bird seed for you. Jack wanted to hang a meat bone in the cedar-tree. He said that you would like it better. Indeed, I believe he did hang one there. Did you ever see it?"