aughing at?" demanded
Jenny crossly. "Don't you dare laugh at me! If there is any one thing I
can't stand it is being laughed at."

"I wasn't laughing at you," replied Peter very meekly. "I was just
laughing, at the thought of how funny you would look with a pair of long
ears like mine. Now you speak of it, Jenny, that song IS quite different
from Welcome Robin's."

"Of course it is," retorted Jenny. "That is Rosebreast singing up there,
and there he is right in the top of that tree. Isn't he handsome?"

Peter looked up to see a bird a little smaller than Welcome Robin. His
head, throat and back were black. His wings were black with patches of
white on them. But it was his breast that made Peter catch his breath
with a little gasp of admiration, for that breast was a beautiful
rose-red. The rest of him underneath was white. It was Rosebreast the
Grosbeak.

"Isn't he lovely!"' cried Peter, and added in the next breath, "Who is
that with him?"

"Mrs. Grosbeak, of course. Who else would it be?" sputtered Jenny rather
crossly, for she was still a little put out because she had been laughed
at.

"I would never have guessed it," said Peter. "She doesn't look the least
bit like him."

This was quite true. There was no beautiful rose color about Mrs.
Grosbeak. She was dressed chiefly in brown and grayish colors with a
little buff here and there and with dark streaks on her breast. Over
each eye was a whitish line. Altogether she looked more as if she
might be a big member of the Sparrow family than the wife of handsome
Rosebreast. While Rosebreast sang, Mrs. Grosbeak was very busily picking
buds and blossoms from the tree.

"What is she doing that for?" inquired Peter.

"For the same reason that you bite off sweet clover blossoms and
leaves," replied Jenny Wren tartly.

"Do you mean to say that they live on buds and blossoms?" cried Peter.
"I never heard of such a thing."

"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! You can ask more silly questions than anybody
of my acquaintance," retorted Jenny Wren. "Of course they don't live on
buds and blossoms. If they did they would soon starve to death, for buds
and blossoms don't last long. They eat a few just for variety, but they
live mostly on bugs and insects. You ask Farmer Brown's boy who helps
him most in his potato patch, and he'll tell you it's the Grosbeaks.
They certainly do love potato bugs. They eat some fruit, but on the
whole they are about as useful around a garden as any