ly; but the Pheasant tried to shrink out of
sight. The Peacock, however, had spied his poor relative, and was filled
with cousinly resentment at his appearance.

He stopped short. He stood upon one leg. He puffed and ruffled himself,
spreading out his thousand-eyed tail so that its colors flashed
wonderfully in the sunshine. He frilled his neck feathers and snapped
his mean little eyes maliciously; then turning his back on the shabby
couple said, as he stepped airily away,--

"Ah, I have dropped some of my old feathers back there a little way. You
can have them if you like, Pheasant. They will freshen you up a bit; you
really are looking shockingly seedy. But for mercy's sake don't wear
them in my presence! I can't bear to see any one parading in my cast-off
elegance." Then the Peacock minced away.

The Peacock's cousin stamped on the ground and flapped his wings with
rage. If he had been a girl he would have burst into tears. "I cannot
stand this," he cried. "To be treated as if I were a beggar! To be given
old clothes to wear! Crow, Crow, if you were any kind of friend you
would help me. But you stand staring there and see me insulted, without
turning a feather! What is the use of all your wisdom that you learned
from King Solomon if you cannot help a friend in need? I tell you, I
must have some better garments, or I shall die of mortification."

"Don't be excited," said the Crow soothingly. "I have been thinking the
matter over, and I believe I can do something. Listen. Yesterday I found
brushes and a box of colors in a room of the King's palace. They
belonged to the Court Painter. Now they belong to me, for I have hidden
them away in a hollow tree where no one else can find them. I thought
they might be useful, and I think so still."

"Well, well! What do you propose to do with paints and brushes?" cried
the Peacock's cousin impatiently.

"I propose to paint you, to varnish you, to gild you," patiently
answered the Crow.

"Oh, you dear Crow!" exclaimed the other, clapping his wings. "You will
make me brilliant and beautiful! You will make me worthy of the
Peacock, will you not? How clever of you to think of such a thing!"

"Yes," replied the Crow; "I watched the Court Painter at work in the
garden one day, and I know how it is done. I will make you as gorgeous
as you wish. But you must return the compliment. If you are to be an
ornament of fashion, so must I be; for are we not inseparable cronies?
And when