blow as if they thought themselves bigger than they are, very likely
they belong to that year. You ask them.

Peter was a just master, and paid his work-people every evening. They
stood in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut the paper
sixpences out of his bank-note, and presently he called the roll, and
then each bird, as the names were mentioned, flew down and got
sixpence. It must have been a fine sight.

And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, the
deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a great
thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of it he slept
by its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it
was lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He
sleeps in his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round
in it, for it is just large enough to hold him comfortably when he
curls round like a kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside
it is mostly green, being woven of grass and twigs, and when these
wither or snap the walls are thatched afresh. There are also a few
feathers here and there, which came off the thrushes while they were
building.

The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would
not balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they
said the water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next
they said that Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look
at each other in dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of
oars, for he had a sail, and with such a proud, happy face he produced
a sail which he had fashioned out of this night-gown, and though it
was still rather like a night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that