croak.

"You silly Pigeon," she sputtered, "not _so_. You are spoiling your
nest. Place the sticks _so_!"

"I know, I know! That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!" cooed the
Wood-Pigeon obstinately in her soft, foolish little voice, without
paying the least attention to Mother Magpie's directions.

"We all know that--anything more?" chirped the chorus of birds, trying
to conceal how anxious they were to know what came next, for the nests
were only half finished.

But Mother Magpie was thoroughly disgusted, and refused to go on with
the lesson which had been so rudely interrupted by her pupils.

"You are all so wise, friends," she said, "that surely you do not need
any help from me. You say you know all about it,--then go on and finish
your nests by yourselves. Much luck may you have!" And away she flew to
her own cosy nest in the elm tree, where she was soon fast asleep,
forgetting all about the matter.

But oh! What a pickle the other birds were in! The lesson was but half
finished, and most of them had not the slightest idea what to do next.
That is why to this day many of the birds have never learned to build a
perfect nest. Some do better than others, but none build like Mother
Magpie.

But the Wood-Pigeon was in the worst case of them all. For she had only
the foundation laid criss-cross as the Magpie had shown her. And so, if