And once Mother Oriole found, caught in the shutter, little threads of
Hepzebiah's hair.

Then the three happy children woke up. They rubbed their eyes. They had
been dreaming in the warm sun.

But their dream was true and the fairy story was true.

For there were the two birds, very pretty and very much alive. They were
busily flying to the earth again and back to the elm branch. And they were
carrying the materials for their new home in their beaks.

They perched on the branch and crocheted with their beaks. Yes, crocheted
the little bits of bark and string and grass and hair into a tiny nest.
Hanging down from the branch, it looked like the pretty soft grey bags
which ladies carry, only it was very small.

And between whiles Father Oriole would whistle in delight and Mother Oriole
would answer back quietly.

They were very happy birds and were quite content with the warm sun and
the cool elm leaves and the pretty apple blossoms and their breakfast and
dinner and supper. And they were very grateful to the good God who had
given these things to them, grateful and happy as all little children
should be.

But that is not the end of the fairy story. No, that is--but the
Little-Clock-with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantel won't let us tell any more.
His silver voice says: