n, dark suits which the
Turkey Buzzard brought us. Make us look like the sun we have brought to
you."

The fox looked about him. Beautiful yellow flowers were growing near. He
pressed some of the sun color from them, and with the tip of his tail as
a brush, he began to paint the dark little birds like the sun.

The birds fluttered so with joy, he thought he would paint the bodies
first. Before he could brush the wings and tails with the sun paint,
each little bird had darted away, like a streak of sunshine. So happy
and light of heart were the birds, that they could not wait for the fox
to finish the painting.

This is why goldfinches are yellow like the sun. It is why they have
black wings and tails, why they flutter so with joy, and why they never
finish their song.

WHAT THE ASH AND THE MAPLE LEARNED

Long ago, birds, trees, animals, and men knew each the language of the
other, and all could talk together.

In those days, the trees of the forest grew very large and strong. At
last they came to know their strength too well. They became selfish, and
proud, and quarrelsome. Each tree boasted that he was the greatest and
strongest. Each one struggled to gain for himself the most earth, the
best air, the brightest sun. No tree had a thought for the other.

One day the trunk of a great Maple tried to crowd out an Ash. The Ash,
of course, thought he had as much right to stand there as the Maple, and
he said he would not stir a limb.

"Get out of my way," cried the Maple. "I am greater than you, and of
more use to man; for I furnish the sweet water for him to drink."

"Indeed, I will not!" said the Ash. "I am greater than you, and of more
use to man than you; for I furnish the tough wood from which he makes
his bow."

At this the trees fell to wrestling. Back and forth, in and out they
swayed, each trying to throw the other. They forgot that they were
brothers in the wood.

Then the South Wind came along. He heard the loud voices and stopped to
find out what the quarrel was about.

"I am greater than you, for I furnish the sweet water for man to drink,"
came the angry voice of the Maple, as he threw his huge trunk against
the Ash.

"No, you are not," retorted the Ash, and he sent the Maple back with a
great push of his strong elbow. "I am greater than you, for I furnish
the tough wood from which he makes his bow."

[Illustration]

For a time, the South Wind watched them writhe and twist and try to