e on it. In size he was a little smaller than Linnet and
altogether one of the smartest appearing of all the little people who
wear feathers. It was a joy just to look at him. If Peter had known
anything about Canaries, which of course he didn't, because Canaries
are always kept in cages, he would have understood why Chicoree the
Goldfinch is often called the Wild Canary.

Mrs. Goldfinch now joined her handsome mate and it was plain to see that
she admired him quite as much as did Peter. Her wings and tail were much
like his but were more brownish than black. She wore no cap it all and
her back and head were a grayish-brown with an olive tinge. Underneath
she was lighter, with a tinge of yellow. All together she was a very
modestly dressed small person. As Peter recalled Chicoree's winter suit,
it was very much like that now worn by Mrs. Goldfinch, save that his
wings and tail were as they now appeared.

All the time Chicoree kept up a continual happy twittering, breaking out
every few moments into song. It was clear that he was fairly bubbling
over with joy.

"I suppose," said Peter, "it sounds foolish of me to ask if you are a
member of the same family as Linnet."

"Very foolish, Peter. Very foolish," laughed Chicoree. "Isn't my name
Goldfinch, and isn't his name Purple Finch? We belong to the same family
and a mighty fine family it is. Now I must go over to the Old Pasture to
see how the thistles are coming on."

Away he flew calling, "Chic-o-ree, per-chic-o-ree, chic-o-ree!" Mrs.
Goldfinch followed. As they flew, they rose and fell in the air in very
much the same way that Yellow Wing the Flicker does.

"I'd know them just by that, even if Chicoree didn't keep calling his
own name," thought Peter. "It's funny how they often stay around all
winter yet are among the last of all the birds to set up housekeeping.
As I once said to Jenny Wren, birds certainly are funny creatures."

"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! It's no such thing, Peter Rabbit. It's no such
thing," scolded Jenny Wren as she flew last Peter on her way to hunt for
another worm for her hungry babies.

CHAPTER, XXXIV. Mourner the Dove and Cuckoo.

A long lane leads from Farmer Brown's barnyard down to his cornfield on
the Green Meadows. It happened that very early one morning Peter Rabbit
took it into his funny little head to run down that long lane to see
what he might see. Now at a certain place beside that long lane was a
gravelly bank into whic