disappointment, follow them, and begin all over. For the last
three days the Cardinal had been watching his cousin,
rose-breasted Grosbeak, make violent love to the most exquisite
little female, who apparently encouraged his advances, only to
see him left sitting as blue and disconsolate as any human lover,
when he discovers that the maid who has coquetted with him for a
season belongs to another man.

The Cardinal flew to the very top of the highest sycamore and
looked across country toward the Limberlost. Should he go there
seeking a swamp mate among his kindred? It was not an endurable
thought. To be sure, matters were becoming serious. No bird
beside the shining river had plumed, paraded, or made more music
than he. Was it all to be wasted? By this time he confidently
had expected results. Only that morning he had swelled with
pride as he heard Mrs. Jay tell her quarrelsome husband that she
wished she could exchange him for the Cardinal. Did not the
gentle dove pause by the sumac, when she left brooding to take
her morning dip in the dust, and gaze at him with unconcealed
admiration? No doubt she devoutly wished her plain pudgy husband
wore a scarlet coat. But it is praise from one's own sex that is
praise indeed, and only an hour ago the lark had reported that
from his lookout above cloud he saw no other singer anywhere so
splendid as the Cardinal of the sumac. Because of these things
he held fast to his conviction that he was a prince indeed; and
he decided to remain in his chosen location and with his physical
and vocal attractions compel the finest little cardinal in the
fields to seek him.

He planned it all very carefully: how she would hear his splendid