Quickly the owl slipped from her old gray dress into the splendid new one. Gently she fluttered about and ruffled the soft black and white feathers.
"Where did you get them?" she said, circling about and looking at her tail for the twentieth time.
"Sit down," commanded the raven, "and I will tell you!" So the owl settled down on the branch beside the raven.
"I found the feathers on that steep, rocky cliff beside the sea," he said. "The stones were sharp and the winds were wearying, but at last I finished the dress just as I planned.
"I am glad that you are pleased. I am very tired now, and must sit still and rest."
So delighted was the owl that for a moment she had forgotten the whalebone boots. Now as she looked at the raven she saw that in scratching about for the feathers he had broken one of his pink toes.
With a little cry of pity she flew to the grasses where the boots were hidden. Quickly she snatched them up and flew back to the poor tired raven.
"Here," she cried, "here!—I thought of you while you were away. Now you shall put your tired feet into these strong whale-bone boots. The stones and the ice cannot hurt you again."
"Oh, oh!" croaked the raven. "They are the very things for which I have been longing!"
"Put them on! Put them on!" cried the owl. "See how they will rest you! They will make you feel quite young again!"