now a few. Why is a robin like
a waterbut?"

"First of all," said the Archaeopteryx, anxiously, "what is a robin, and
who is a waterbut?"

"Oh, a robin," explained Marjorie, "is a dear little bird with a red
breast that comes in the winter----"

"Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "one thing at a time. What is a
bird?"

"Oh, I say! You _must_ know what a bird is," expostulated Dick.

"I don't," said the Palaeotherium, stubbornly.

"Why--why--the Dodo is a bird," explained Dick.

"Yes, but nothing like a robin, Dick, dear," added Marjorie; "a robin is
such a sweet, pretty little thing----"

"Well, I never!" exclaimed the Dodo, "do you mean to say _I'm_ not a
pretty little thing?"

"Well, you're not _quite_ like a robin, are you?" said Marjorie, getting
out of the difficulty very cleverly.

"Not _quite_, perhaps," admitted the Dodo; "but I _am_ pretty," he added
decidedly.

"I don't see what all this has to do with my conundrum," said Dick.

"Well, let's try again," said the Archaeopteryx. "Why is a robin like a
waterbut?"

"A robin is a bird that comes in the winter," repeated the Eteraedarium,
"and the waterbut--is that also a bird?"

"Oh, no," laughed Marjorie; "a waterbut is a tub for holding water."

"Can it fly?" asked the Eteraedarium.

"Of course not!" said Dick; "who ever heard of such a thing?"

"Well, _is_ it like a robin? That's the point," said the Palaeotherium.

"Not in appearance," admitted Dick. "Will you give it up?" he added,
looking around the table.

"Give what up?" asked the creatures.

"The conundrum," replied Dick.

"I haven't got it," declared the Dodo.

"Nor have I." "Nor I." "Nor I," said the others.

"No, no! I mean, will you give the answer up?" said Dick, losing
patience.

"But we haven't it," said the Archaeopteryx.

"Look here, I'll tell you what we'll do," said the Palaeotherium,
generously: "I'll give up the robin, and my friend here will give up the
waterbut. There!"

"Now _that's_ settled," said the Dodo, conclusively, "_I'll_ ask you a
conundrum. 'If your wife's aunt is----'"

"Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "I haven't got a wife, you know."

"No," said the Eteraedarium, "he hasn't, and, if he had, she very likely
would not have an aunt. Make it my wife's aunt."

"All right," said the Dodo. "If _your_ wife's aunt is my brother's son,
what relation is Dick to Tom?"

"You haven't asked it right," said Dick, who knew a riddle something
like