was a deep wood.
And in this wood lived a little Nightingale. The Nightingale sang so
beautifully that everybody who heard her remembered her song better
than anything else that he heard or saw. People came from all over the
world to see the crystal palace and the wonderful garden and the great
forest; but when they went home and wrote books about these things they
always wrote, "But the Nightingale is the best of all."

At last it happened that the Emperor came upon a book which said this,
and he at once sent for his Chamberlain.

"Who is this Nightingale?" said the Emperor. "Why have I never heard
him sing?"

The Chamberlain, who was a very important person, said, "There cannot
be any such person; I have never heard his name."

"The book says there is a Nightingale," said the Emperor. "I command
that the Nightingale be brought here to sing for me this evening."

The Chamberlain went out and asked all the great lords and ladies and
pages where the Nightingale could be found, but not one of them had
ever heard of him. So the Chamberlain went back to the Emperor and
said, "There is no such person."

"The book says there is a Nightingale," said the Emperor; "if the
Nightingale is not here to sing for me this evening I will have the
court trampled upon, immediately after supper."

The Chamberlain did not want to be trampled upon, so he ran out and
asked everybody in the palace about the Nightingale. At last, a little
girl who worked in the kitchen to help the cook's helper, said, "Oh,
yes, I know the Nightingale very well. Every night, when I go to carry
scraps from the kitchen to my mother, who lives in the wood beyond the
forest, I hear the Nightingale sing."

The Chamberlain asked the little cook-maid to take him to the
Nightingale's home, and many of the lords and ladies followed after.
When they had gone a little way, they heard a cow moo.

"Ah!" said the lords and ladies, "that must be the Nightingale; what a
large voice for so small a creature!"

"Oh, no," said the little girl, "that is just a cow, mooing."

A little farther on they heard some bull-frogs, in a swamp. "Surely
that is the Nightingale," said the courtiers; "it really sounds like
church-bells!"

"Oh, no," said the little girl, "those are bullfrogs, croaking."

At last they came to the wood where the Nightingale was. "Hush!" said
the little girl, "she is going to sing." And, sure enough, the little
Nightingale began to sing. She