“What a squeaky noise these creatures make!” said big Bear, as he brushed off the butterfly. "What a pity it is they have not our deep voices."
“Yes,” said Mrs. Bear; "you have a much finer voice than the lark. I should like to hear him growl as you do."
“Oh, my dear, you are too kind; my growl is nothing to the lion's.”
And thus conversing, the bears walked on.
Now there lived in the same forest a sweet little girl, who was called Golden Hair. She was the Woodman's daughter, and her hair looked just like sunbeams. She knew every tree in the greenwood, and every flower in it. She loved the birds, and liked to listen to their song; and everything in the wood loved Golden Hair. The trees bent down their lower branches to touch her glittering head as she passed; the birds sang sweeter as she glided by. The lark's song in the sky was—
“Come up, come up, Golden Hair; here is your happy home.”
“Coo, I love you; coo, I love you!” cooed the wood-pigeon, as she passed.
“Twit, twit, pretty child,” said the sparrow.
“Oh, you darling,” sang the blackbird; and Golden Hair laughed with glee, for she liked to be loved.
