"I want them for a pie for the King's dinner," answered Mister Baker;
"His Majesty ordered the dish, and I have hunted all over London for
the blackbirds, but could not find them. Now that you have brought
them, however, you have saved me my position as cook, and perhaps my
head as well."

"But it would be cruel to put the beautiful birds in a pie,"
remonstrated Gilligren, "and I shall not give them to you for such a
purpose."

"Nonsense!" replied the cook, "the King has ordered it; he is very
fond of the dish."

"Still, you cannot have them," declared the boy stoutly, "the birds
are mine, and I will not have them killed."

"But what can I do?" asked the cook, in perplexity; "the King has
ordered a blackbird pie, and your birds are the only blackbirds in
London."

Gilligren thought deeply for a moment, and conceived what he thought
to be a very good idea. If the sixpence was to make his fortune, then
this was his great opportunity.

"You can have the blackbirds on two conditions," he said.

"What are they?" asked the cook.

"One is that you will not kill the birds. The other condition is that
you secure me a position in the King's household."