est and that one thing which had made that song so beautiful was the
love Melody lad been trying to express to the little mate sitting on
the eggs that nest must contain. "I'll just run over here early in the
morning," thought Peter.

Now Peter is a great hand to stay out all night, and that is just what
he did that night. Just before it was time for jolly, round, red Mr. Sun
to kick off his rosy blankets and begin his daily climb up in the blue,
blue sky, Peter started for home in the dear Old Briar-patch. Everywhere
in the Green Forest, in the Old Orchard, on the Green Meadows, his
feathered friends were awakening. He had quite forgotten his intention
to visit Melody and was reminded of it only when again he heard those
beautiful flute-like notes. At once he scampered over to where he had
spent such a peaceful hour the evening before. Melody saw him at once
and dropped down on the ground for a little gossip while he scratched
among the leaves in search of his breakfast.

"I just love to hear you sing, Melody," cried Peter rather breathlessly.
"I don't know of any other song that makes me feel quite as yours does,
so sort of perfectly contented and free of care and worry."

"Thank you," replied Melody. "I'm glad you like to hear me sing for
there is nothing I like to do better. It is the one way in which I can
express my feelings. I love all the Great World and I just have to tell
it so. I do not mean to boast when I say that all the Thrush family have
good voices."

"But you have the best of all," cried Peter.

Melody shook his brown head. "I wouldn't say that," said he modestly.
"I think the song of my cousin Hermit, is even more beautiful than
mine. And then there is my other cousin, Veery. His song is wonderful, I
think."

But just then Peter's curiosity was greater than his interest in songs.
"Have you built your nest yet?" he asked.

Melody nodded. "It is in a little tree not far from here," said he, "and
Mrs. Wood Thrush is sitting on five eggs this blessed minute. Isn't that
perfectly lovely?"

It was Peter's turn to nod. "What is your nest built of?" he inquired.

"Rootlets and tiny twigs and weed stalks and leaves and mud," replied
Melody.

"Mud!" exclaimed Peter. "Why, that's what Welcome Robin uses in his
nest."

"Well, Welcome Robin is my own cousin, so I don't know as there's
anything so surprising in that," retorted Melody.

"Oh," said Peter. "I had forgotten that he is a member of the Thr