greatest ornament. But now a
miserable race of Chinese birds has come in, and go where I will I see
nothing but white-ringed necks and hideous green backs. My very
children, now no more, took them for wives and husbands, and I alone
am left of the old pure breed, the last of the true Pheasants, the
last king of this famous wood, the last and the greatest--bless me,
what's that? Kok, kok, kok, kok, kok." Thereupon he flipped up into a
larch-tree and began at the top of his voice: "You wretched creature,
how often have I forbidden you the woods? Go home and catch mice, go
home. My dear young friend, let me entreat you to drive that wretch
away."

And the Pricket looking round saw a little black and white Cat
slinking through the wood close by, a thing he had never seen before
and did not at all like the sight of. She took not the least notice of
the Pheasant till the Hind trotted down through the covert and said
very sternly: "Go home, Pussy, go home. How dare you come out into the
woods? Take care, or you'll come to a bad end." And the Cat ran away
as fast as she could; and I may as well say that she did come to a bad
end the very next week, for she was caught in a trap and knocked on
the head, which last is the fate of all poaching cats sooner or later.
So if ever you own a cat, be careful to keep it at home.

"Ah!" said the old Cock-Pheasant, much relieved, as the Cat
disappeared. "Is that your mother, my young friend? What an excellent
person! You must introduce me some day, but really at this moment I
feel quite unfit to leave this tree."

So they left him sitting in the larch tree, not looking at all kingly,
and wandered about the wood, finding it very much to their liking; for
there was dry ground and wet ground, sunny beds and shady beds, warm
places and cool places, and great quiet and repose. And that is why
all wild animals love Bremridge Wood and always have loved it.

Now some days after they had made their home there, the Pricket became
troubled with a good deal of itching in the velvet on his head. He
shook his head violently, but this did no good except to make the
velvet fall down in little strips, so at last he picked out a neat
little ash-tree and rubbed and scrubbed and frayed till all the velvet
fell to the ground, and he was left with a clean little pair of smooth
white horns. At this he was so pleased with himself that he must needs
go down to the river to look at himself in the water; and after