"Hurrah for you! You are the poet of the Ark."

"Oh, no!" replied the modest little Dove. "That is not my own. My mother
taught me that song when I was a Dovelet."

"Is that so?" said the Weathercock, and he gave a sigh of relief, for I
guess he wanted to be the only poet on board the Ark and sing his little
songs every morning just as he had always done.

By this time Marjorie was dressed and, taking the Dove on her shoulder,
went down to the diningroom. As usual, the Noah boys were on hand with
great and glorious appetites.

"How are the animals this morning?" inquired Capt. Noah, helping himself
to a big saucer of oatmeal.

"Pretty well," answered Japheth.

"Some of the insects are getting restless," said Ham.

"I should say so," exclaimed Mrs. Noah. "Here's that big red Ant in the
sugar bowl."

"Catch him," cried Shem, "we ought to put him back where he belongs."'

But the Ant all of a sudden crawled out of the sugar bowl and ran down the
leg of the table and out on deck.

"There he goes!" shouted Marjorie.