ld. I have been ill-treated."

"Oh, yes," said the blackbird, "you have been polled! We know all about
that."

"Would you be so kind as to wipe your feet?" said the willow-tree. "I
only mean that I should not like you to muddy the water if another
should come and want a drink. One can never tell, in this drought."

The blackbird scraped his feet clean on a splinter of wood that was
there. The splinter broke off and, when the bird flew away, there was
quite a little heap of earth left. Next day a swallow came and next a
lark and gradually quite a number of birds.

For it soon got about that, at a pinch, there was generally a drop of
water to be found in the old polled willow in the avenue. They all left
something or other behind them; and, by the autumn, there was so much up
there that, one fine day, it collapsed and quite filled up the little
hole where the water was.

"You're simply keeping a public-house," said the oak.

"Why shouldn't one be kind to one's fellow-creatures?" said the
willow-tree.

It was now autumn. The withered leaves blew up into the willow-tree and
lay and rotted. A dragon-fly had lain down to die up there in the
latter part of the summer. One of the dandelion's fluffy seeds had
fallen just beside her. The winter came and the snow fell on the little
spot and lay for its appointed time, exactly as on the ground.

"It is just as though I had quite a piece of the world in my head," said
the willow-tree.

"It's not healthy to have too much in one's head," said the oak.

"Once I had a large and glorious crown," said the willow-tree, sadly.
"Now I am satisfied and delighted with less. We must take life as it
comes."

"That's so," said the wild rose-bush.

"It will be all right," said the elder-bush. "I told you so."

"Horrid vulgar fellow," said the nearest poplar.

"Horrid ... vulgar ... fellow," whispered the poplars along the avenue.

7

The winter passed and the spring came. Up in the middle of the
willow-tree's top peeped a little green sprout.

"Hullo, who are you?" asked the willow-tree.

"I'm just a little dandelion," said the sprout. "I was in mother's head,
with a heap of brothers and sisters. Each of us had a little parachute.
'Fly away now, darlings,' said mother. 'The farther away you go, the
better. I can do no more for you than I have done; and I won't deny that
I am a little concerned about all the children that I have brought into
the world. But that can't be hel