The raven slipped his tired feet into the whalebone boots. Straight away the old tired ache left him. He hopped gaily about and croaked cheerfully.
"How graceful!" he said. "How perfectly they fit! How comfortable."
"Now I shall make a coat for you," said the owl. "It shall be pure white. The feathers shall be the shiniest and the loveliest that I can find!"
By and bye the raven's white coat was ready to be fitted.
"Come," commanded the owl. "Come and stand still while I fit your coat."
The raven came, but so delighted was he with the whalebone boots that he could not stand still. As the owl worked over him he kept hopping and dancing about.
"Stand still!" cried the owl. "I can do nothing with you hopping about so. I shall stick the pin-feathers into you!"
For an instant the raven stood still, looking down at the boots. Then he jumped so suddenly that the owl dropped a whole clawful of the soft white feathers with which she was finishing the neck.
Then the owl grew very angry.
"Stand still!" she hooted. "If you jump another time I will throw the oil from the lamp on you!"'