"Ha! you seem quite happy this beautiful morning," said Uncle Wiggily, as
he paused under the tree where the bird was singing. "Why, I do declare,"
he exclaimed. "If it isn't Mrs. Wren! Well, I never in all my born days! I
didn't know you were back from the South yet."

"Yes, Uncle Wiggily," said the little brown wren, "I came up some time
ago. But I'm real glad to see you. I'm going to take my little birdies out
of the shell pretty soon. They are almost hatched."

"Glad to hear it," said the rabbit, politely, and then he told about
seeking his fortune, and all of a sudden a great big ugly crow-bird flew
down out of a tall tree and made a dash for Mrs. Wren to eat her up. But
Mrs. Wren got out of the way just in time, and didn't get caught.

But alack, and alas-a-day! The crow knocked down the wren's nest, and all
the sticks and feathers of which it was made were scattered all about, and
the eggs, with the little birdies inside, would have been all broken
ker-smash, only that they happened to fall down on some soft moss.

"Oh, dear!" cried Mrs. Wren, sorrowfully. "Now see what that crow has
done! My home is broken up, and my birdies will be killed."

"Caw! Caw! Caw!" cried the crow as unkindly as he could, and it sounded
just as if he laughed "Haw! Haw! Haw!"

"Oh, whatever shall I do?" asked Mrs. Wren. "My birdies will have no nest,
and I haven't time to make another and break up the little fine sticks
that I need and gather the feathers that are scattered all over. Oh, what
shall I do? Soon my birdies will be out of the shells."