bbins," said Twinkle, honestly.
"But we try not to be any naughtier than we can help."

"I am sure you will behave very nicely," replied the bluejay.

After a time the rosy glow appeared reflected in the blue sky, and as
they flew toward it the soft and delightful radiance seemed to grow and
deepen in intensity. It did not dazzle their eyes in the least, but as
the light penetrated the forest and its furthest rays fell upon the
group, they experienced a queer sense of elation and light-hearted joy.

But now the breeze freshened and grew more strong, pressing against
their feathered breasts so gently yet powerfully that they soon
discovered they were not advancing at all, but simply fluttering in the
air.

"Drop down to the ground," whispered the bluejay; and they obeyed his
injunction and found that close to the earth the wind was not so
strong.

"That is a secret I learned some time ago," said their friend. "Most
birds who seek to enter the Paradise try to beat against the wind, and
are therefore always driven back; but there is just one way to approach
the Guardian near enough to converse with him. After that it depends
entirely upon his good-will whether you get any farther."

The wind still blew so strongly that it nearly took their breath away,
but by creeping steadily over the ground they were able to proceed
slowly, and after a time the pressure of the wind grew less and less,
until it suddenly ceased altogether.

Then they stopped to rest and to catch their breaths, but before this
happened Twinkle and Chubbins both uttered exclamations of amazement at
the sight that met their eyes.

Before them was a grove composed of stately trees not made of wood, but
having trunks of polished gold and silver and leaves of exquisite
metallic colorings. Beneath the trees was a mass of brilliant flowers,
exceedingly rare and curious in form, and as our little friends looked
upon them these flowers suddenly began a chant of greeting and then
sang a song so sweet and musical that the lark-children were entranced
and listened in rapt delight.

When the song ended the flowers all nodded their heads in a pretty way,
and Twinkle drew a long breath and murmured:

"Isn't it odd to hear flowers sing? I'm sure the birds themselves
cannot beat that music."

"They won't try," replied the policeman, "for Birds of Paradise do not
sing."

"How strange!" exclaimed the girl.

"The land they live in is so full of music that they