ready quitted their dark
winter-quarters, and betaken themselves to their summer abodes by
the cool brook, which now once more ran purling merrily along. All
awaited with eager expectation the appearance of the winged guests.

At length the important day arrived. It was a fine May morning;
through the young foliage of the nut-trees the sunshine played and
sparkled on flowers and turf, on pebbles and rippling waters. Early
in the morning the little Heralds, decked out in new coats of moss,
were seen riding through the Valley upon grasshoppers, and crying
aloud with a clear voice,--

"Come forth, ye Rootmen, all come out!
For the Spring is come, and the birds are about."

The summons was no sooner heard, than the whole of the little
People came pouring from all sides into the Nut-field, which was
set apart for such festivals, and was on this occasion decked out
in the most beautiful manner. In the middle, upon a molehill
prettily covered with small pebbles, stood the throne for the good
King and his fair daughter; it was made of snail-shells and
mussel-shells, and cushioned with feathers. A long alley of
lilies-of-the-valley, six deep, led up to the throne; and when
the royal procession galloped up on squirrels, all the little
lily-bells rang with a lovely melody; for at each lily was
stationed a spider, to pull the bells with a thread of its cobweb.

A solemn silence followed. The Birds had not yet made their
appearance. They had probably alighted somewhere in the
neighbourhood, to smooth and arrange their feathers, ruffled by
their long flight; they must of course show themselves to their
kind hosts in decent attire! On a sudden was heard from afar a
sound, which drew nearer and nearer, the usual sign that the guests
were approaching; and soon there was a great rustling in the air.
First came a flock of birds flying over the forest, then more and
more, until at last the whole field was quite overshadowed by the
winged guests, who alighted in large flocks upon the ground.

A general shout of joy resounded on all sides. The newly-arrived
guests were speedily refreshed with food and drink, and then an old
Stork, the most famous story-teller of his time, mounted upon a
large stone, which served him for a rostrum. He had just put on
that pleasant look with which he used to begin all his stories, he
had just cleared his throat and opened his long red bill, when on a
sudden he was interrupted by a loud murmur f