Next to him sat Bob-o-link, a cheerful little dandy, but noted, nevertheless, for a good deal of courage and common sense. He was the king’s right-wing bird.
On the other side was Brown Thrasher, dressed in a long-tailed coat of brown and a beautiful spotted vest. Thrasher was liked for his wit and sauciness, but on the whole he was a good deal of an adventurer. He had several times claimed kinship to the Thrushes, but they would have none of him.
Among other celebrities were Mocking Bird, a great jester and all-around wit; Quail, the famous toastmaster, and, in fact, all civilized birds except Night Hawk and Whip-poor-will, who were ridiculously shy of all public gatherings, and Crow, who had not been invited.
Of course, it was a great pity that Crow did not receive an invitation, but, somehow, the king had taken a strong dislike to him. The reason for this, he told his subjects, was because Crow could not sing, but it was really because he was black. The king had even hesitated about inviting Blackbird in spite of his gorgeous rainbow lustre.
Well, to say the least, poor Crow’s feelings were greatly hurt. He was very sad as he sat high up in a nearby tree and looked down upon the gay tumult. Crow was a sociable fellow, and, moreover, he was very hungry. Suddenly a thought came into his cunning black head.
Just as the party was at its merriest, he stood erect and called out in his loudest tone, “Hawk, Hawk, Hawk!” Instantly there was a confusion. Thrasher, quickly gathering his coat over his new vest, scurried into the nearest thicket. Quail, greedily bolting the last of his dessert, so far forgot his manners as to run straight across the table and hide himself in the tall grass; while Bob-o-link, checked in the midst of a brilliant speech, vanished among the nearby reeds. Last of all, the king, yielding to the universal panic, took wing. In a moment there was not a bird in sight.
Then Crow, laughing to himself, flew down to the table and made short work of the feast to which he had not been invited. Just as he was finishing the last mouthful, King Bird, ashamed of his hasty flight, returned, ready to confront his deadly enemy. Instead of the expected Hawk, however, he found only Crow, just then hopping up from the table and carefully rubbing his bill against the side of a branch.
Oh, what a rage he was in when he saw the trick that had been played upon them. With a snap of his bill, he flew at Crow like an arrow, and would undoubtedly have injured him had not the rascal taken instant flight.
From that day to this, Crow has been an outcast. If you watch him carefully you will notice how warily he flies, for the smaller birds have never ceased to torment and abuse him.
King Bird in particular has never forgiven the outrage, and whenever he hears Crow’s mocking voice calling “Hawk, Hawk, Hawk,” chases madly after him, crying out, angrily, “Cheat-thief, cheat-thief.”