nly a member
of the Pleasant Valley Singing Society, but its finest singer as well.
Unfortunately, Mr. Crow's husky voice had always prevented his joining
the Society. And somehow--having heard that Bobby was very fond of
rice--Mr. Crow could not get the notion out of his head that he might
be just as fond of corn.

If Mr. Crow thought anybody but himself liked corn he was sure to be
spiteful towards him. You might have thought, from the way Mr. Crow
acted, that Farmer Green didn't raise enough corn to go around.

"How does it happen," Mr. Crow inquired slyly of Mr. Red-winged
Blackbird, "that your friend Bobby Bobolink has all these names? It
can't be--can it--that he is a rogue and is always changing his name
so people won't know who he is?"

"Certainly not!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird snapped. "Only a stupid person
would ask such a question as that."

Just then Bobby Bobolink himself flashed across the meadow and joined
them. And Mr. Red-winged Blackbird began to talk about the weather.

He was afraid that Mr. Crow intended to be disagreeable.

XII

MR. CROW IS DISAGREEABLE

ALTHOUGH Mr. Red-winged Blackbird talked about the weather as fast as
he could, his chatter did not prevent Mr. Crow from interrupting him,
because the old gentleman was determined to be disagreeable to Bobby
Bobolink, and nothing could stop him.

"Your friend here has been talking about you," he told Bobby Bobolink
with a wise smile. "He says you have a good many names."

"Yes!" Bobby told Mr. Crow. "That's quite true."

Mr. Crow coughed; and he shot a sidelong look at Mr. Red-winged
Blackbird.

"It must be pleasant to have so many fine names," Mr. Crow then added,
with a smirk.

"Oh, very!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird answered for his friend.

Mr. Crow turned a snapping eye on him, and croaked:

"There's at least one name you left out among the lot you mentioned to
me. You said he was known as the Reed Bird, the Rice Bird, and the
Butter Bird. But there's one more bird still to be added to the list."

"Is there?"

"Yes!" Mr. Crow replied. "Maybe I know more about your chum than you do.
Perhaps you weren't aware that in spite of all the elegant names you've
spoken of, he's nothing but a Skunk Blackbird after all!" And with a
loud haw-haw Mr. Crow rose upon the breeze and flapped into the woods.
That was a favorite trick of his. After making some specially rude
remark he would hurry away before anybody had time to think o