p food. One had a brown head, neck and breast; the
rest of his coat was glossy black. Peter rightly guessed that this
must be Mr. Cowbird. Seeing them on such good terms with the cows he
understood why they are called Cowbirds.

Sure that Sally Sly had left the Old Orchard, the feathered folks
settled down to their personal affairs and household cares, Jenny Wren
among them. Having no one to talk to, Peter found a shady place close
to the old stone wall and there sat down to think over the surprising
things he had learned. Presently Goldy the Baltimore Oriole alighted in
the nearest apple-tree, and it seemed to Peter that never had he seen
any one more beautifully dressed. His head, neck, throat and upper part
of his back were black. The lower part of his back and his breast were
a beautiful deep orange color. There was a dash of orange on his
shoulders, but the rest of his wings were black with an edging of white.
His tail was black and orange. Peter had heard him called the Firebird,
and now he understood why. His song was quite as rich and beautiful as
his coat.

Shortly he was joined by Mrs. Goldy. Compared with her handsome husband
she was very modestly dressed. She wore more brown than black, and where
the orange color appeared it was rather dull. She wasted no time in
singing. Almost instantly her sharp eyes spied a piece of string caught
in the bushes almost over Peter's head. With a little cry of delight
she flew down and seized it. But the string was caught, and though she
tugged and pulled with all her might she couldn't get it free. Goldy saw
the trouble she was having and cutting his song short, flew down to help
her. Together they pulled and tugged and tugged and pulled, until they
had to stop to rest and get their breath.

"We simply must have this piece of string," said Mrs. Goldy. "I've been
hunting everywhere for a piece, and this is the first I've found. It is
just what we need to bind our nest fast to the twigs. With this I won't
have the least bit of fear that that nest will ever tear loose, no
matter how hard the wind blows."

Once more they tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged until at last
they got it free, and Mrs. Goldy flew away in triumph with the string in
her bill. Goldy himself followed. Peter watched them fly to the top of a
long, swaying branch of a big elm-tree up near Farmer Brown's house. He
could see something which looked like a bag hanging there, and he knew
that this must b