ng a kitchen-maid. It's the truest thing that ever
was said, that birds of a feather fly together."

"Birds of a feather fly together ... fly together ... fly together ...
together ... together," whispered the poplars all along the avenue.

The oak on the little hillock in the fields twisted his crooked branches
with laughter. The wild rose, whose hips were already beginning to turn
red, nodded to the willow-tree:

"Every one has his position in life," she said. "We have ours and the
smart ones theirs. Now I wouldn't change with anybody."

"Still, one would like to give satisfaction in one's position," said the
willow-tree and sighed!

4

After the warm days came rain and drizzle and wind. The roads became
difficult because of the mud and slosh. Only in the avenue did it dry up
soon, however hard it had rained. For the poplars gave no shade, so the
sun was able to come at once as soon as the rain had ceased. And they
gave no shelter either, so the wind came with a rush and dried the
puddles.

[Illustration]

The squire came driving with his wife. When the carriage reached the
place where the willow stood, the wet mud splashed all over her new silk
dress.

"Ugh!" she said.

"What's all this nasty mess?" asked the squire.

The keeper, who was sitting on the box beside the coachman, pointed to
the willow-tree:

"It's that fellow there," he said. "He was planted by mistake and now he
has stood and grown big. He shelters the ground from the wind and shades
it from the sun, so there is always a big puddle under him, long after
the rest of the avenue is dry."

"Did you ever hear of such a thing?" said the squire. "And the look of
him, too! He spoils the whole of the beautiful, stately avenue. See and
poll him to-morrow, keeper. Off with the whole of his crown, do you
hear?"

For that happened to be his mood that day.

On the next day, they came and sawed the willow-tree down to a man's
height. Only the thick naked trunk remained. Not a leaf was-left, except
five that stood on a little twig down by the ground and really had no
business to be there at all. The whole of the splendid crown lay in the
ditch. The keeper chopped all the branches into pieces with his axe.

"Will they become cuttings?" asked the willow, disconsolately.

"They will become faggots," replied the keeper and went on chopping to
the last stick.

"Then rather let me die at once," said the willow.

"For the present, you will stay wh