One fair spring morning two bonny brown birds sat on a lilac bush twittering and chirping:—
"Chee, chee, cheeree. Where shall we make our little nest?"
"Make it here in my branches," said the maple tree that grew by the garden gate. "Many a nest have I held in my arms. Make it here."
The maple tree was strong and green and beautiful. Its wide-spreading branches reached from the garden path far over the road beyond the gate; and they rocked like a cradle in the wind that fair spring morning. Oh! it was the very place to make a nest, and as soon as the brown birds had looked at it they decided to build there.
"Chee, chee, cheeree," they sang in the sunshine.
"We'll make our nest in the maple tree,
Oh! we are so happy, chee, chee, cheeree."
They twittered and chirped and trilled and sang till a cow, that was eating her breakfast of hay in the barnyard near by, put her head over the fence to ask the news. When the brown birds told her what they were going to do she did not wonder at their singing.
"If you need any hay," said she, "fly over the fence and help yourselves to some of mine. There is plenty here for you and me; and I have heard my friend the speckled hen say that there is nothing better for a nest than hay."
"Very true," said the maple tree. "Every bird must suit himself, but I agree with the speckled hen, and I have held enough nests to know something about them."