of cotton
in her beak and hid it away. She went on doing this till at last she had
quite a little heap of cotton all of her own. At least, it was not
really her own, because she stole it; but then you cannot get policemen
to take up a Thrush for stealing, and as men catch Thrushes and put them
in a cage all for nothing, it is only fair the birds should have their
turn.

When the heap of cotton was big enough, our Thrush flew to the house of
the Cotton-carder, and sat down in front of him.

"Good day, Man," said the Thrush.

"Good day, Birdie," said the Cotton-carder. The Thrush was not a bit
afraid, because she knew he was a kind man, who never caught little
birds to put them in a cage. He liked better to hear them singing free
in the woods.

"Man," said the Thrush, "I have a heap of beautiful cotton, and I'll
tell you what. You shall have half of it, if you will card the rest and
make it up into balls for me."

"That I will," said the man; "where is it?"

"If you will come with me," said the Thrush, "I'll show you."

So the Thrush flew in front, and the man followed after, and they came
to the place where the hoard of cotton was hidden away. The man took the
cotton home, and carded it, and made it into balls. Half of the cotton
he took for his trouble, and the rest he gave back to the Thrush. He was
so honest that he did not cheat even a bird, although he could easily
have done so. For birds cannot count: and if you find a nest full of
eggs, and take one or two, the mother-bird will never miss them; but if
you take all, the bird is unhappy.

Not far away from the Carder lived a Spinner. This man used to put a
ball of cotton on a stick, and then he pulled out a bit of the cotton
without breaking it, and tied it to another little stick with a weight
on it. Then he twisted the weight, and set it a-spinning; and as it
span, he held the cotton ball in one hand, and pulled out the cotton
with the other, working it between finger and thumb to keep it fine.
Thus the spindle went on spinning, and the cotton went on twisting,
until it was twisted into thread. That is why the man was called a
Spinner. It looks very easy to do, when you can do it; but it is really
very hard to do well.

To this Spinner the Thrush came, and after bidding him good day, said
she--

"Mr. Spinner, I have some balls of cotton all ready to spin into thread.
Will you spin one half of them into thread for me, if I give you the
other half?"