tle brooks and fountains, just as we see them to-day. Now it
was a beautiful, beautiful world, and the good birds sang happily and
rejoiced in the work which they had helped, and in the sparkling water
which was sweet to their taste.

All were happy except one. The Woodpecker had taken no part with the
other busy birds. She was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when she
heard the Lord's commands she had only said, "Tut tut!" and sat still on
the branch where she had perched, preening her pretty feathers and
admiring her silver stockings. "You can toil if you want to," she said
to the other birds who wondered at her, "but I shall do no such dirty
work. My clothes are too fine."

Now when the world was quite finished and the beautiful water sparkled
and glinted here and there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called the
birds to Him and thanked them for their help, praising them for their
industry and zeal. But to the Woodpecker He said,--

"As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that your feathers are unruffled by
work and that there is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How did
you manage to keep so neat?"

The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon one leg.

"It is a good thing to be neat," said the Lord, "but not if it comes
from shirking a duty. It is good to be dainty, but not from laziness.
Have you not worked with your brothers as I commanded you?"

"It was such very dirty work," piped the Woodpecker crossly; "I was
afraid of spoiling my pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose."

"Oh, vain and lazy bird!" said the Lord sadly. "Have you nothing to do
but show off your fine clothes and give yourself airs? You are no more
beautiful than many of your brothers, yet they all obeyed me willingly.
Look at the snow-white Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and the
pretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet their plumage is not
injured. I fear that you must be punished for your disobedience, little
Woodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stockings of sooty black instead
of the shining silver ones of which you are so proud. You who were too
fine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking at dusty wood. And as you
declined to help in building the water-basins of the world, so you shall
never sip from them when you are thirsty. Never shall you thrust beak
into lake or river, little rippling brook or cool, sweet fountain.
Raindrops falling scantily from the leaves shall be your drink, and your
voice shall be h