The two that remained were surely the envy of Birdland. The male
baby was a perfect copy of his big crimson father, only his
little coat was gray; but it was so highly tinged with red that
it was brilliant, and his beak and feet were really red; and how
his crest did flare, and how proud and important he felt, when he
found he could raise and lower it at will. His sister was not
nearly so bright as he, and she was almost as greedy as the lost
brother. With his father's chivalry he allowed her to crowd in
and take the most of the seeds and berries, so that she
continually appeared as if she could swallow no more, yet she was
constantly calling for food.

She took the first flight, being so greedy she forgot to be
afraid, and actually flew to a neighbouring thorn tree to meet
the Cardinal, coming with food, before she realized what she had
done. For once gluttony had its proper reward. She not only
missed the bite, but she got her little self mightily well
scared. With popping eyes and fear-flattened crest, she clung to
the thorn limb, shivering at the depths below; and it was the
greatest comfort when her brother plucked up courage and came
sailing across to her. But, of course, she could not be expected
to admit that. When she saw how easily he did it, she flared her
crest, turned her head indifferently, and inquired if he did not
find flying a very easy matter, once he mustered courage to try
it; and she made him very much ashamed indeed because he had
allowed her to be the first to leave the nest. From the thorn
tree they worked their way to the dead sycamore; but there the
lack of foliage made them so conspicuous that their mother almost
went into spasms from fright, and she literally drove them back
to the sumac.