est, I'll show you how to build
one. You just find a dead limb, not too dead, and bore a deep hole into
it. Put a little soft, rotten wood in the bottom, and there you are!

"'That must be a close, stuffy kind of a nest; enough to smother one,'
said the oriole scornfully. Come with me and I will teach you to hang
your nest on the end of an elm branch. You just weave together some hair
and grass and moss and hang it on a slender, swinging branch, where
nothing can get to it. Then you'll be safe. The wind will rock your
babies to sleep for you and you'll have plenty of fresh air.'

"'I wouldn't like that at all,' said the sand martin. 'I'd be seasick
the first half hour. A good hole in a sandbank suits me much better. To
be sure, the sand sometimes caves in. But that doesn't matter much. A
little hard work will clear your doorway.'

"'What do you do when the high waters come?' asked the phoebe bird.
'For my part,' continued she, 'I like a rock ledge for a foundation with
another one above for a roof. The rock never caves in on you. A little
hair and grass, nicely laid down, with a little moss on the outside, and
you are comfortable and safe. You'll never be drowned out there.'

"'I don't like rocks,' said the robin. 'A fork in a tree suits me much
better. Just lay down a few sticks for a foundation, then weave together
some twigs and grass and plaster the inside with some good thick mud,
and you have a serviceable nest, good enough for anyone. A few feathers
in the bottom will make it soft and comfortable. It may not be so
elegant as some others, but it suits me.'

"And so it went on. Each one of the birds praised its own nest and
offered to show Mother Mo-lo how to build one like it.

"But Mother Mo-lo cared little for what they said. She wasn't even
polite enough to pretend to pay attention. She was too conceited.
thought that she was handsome and knew about all there was to be known."

"Handsome?" said little Luke; "the ugly old thing! It can't be that she
had ever looked at herself."

"Oh, I don't know," said Nick-uts, "the sillier people are, the wiser
they think themselves. And it's always the ugly ones who think
themselves the most beautiful."

"Well," said little Luke, "I've seen a good deal of her, but I never
thought her handsome in the least. You know she follows the cows about
so much that we house people call her the cowbird."

"Well, at any rate," said Nick-uts, "she thought she knew a great deal