"'The next time you set yourself up for one of us, it would be a good
idea to tie the feathers in, else they may drop out, as this one has,'
the peacock said, and I expected to see Mr. Crow almost faint away with
shame. But bless you, he never thought of doing anything of that kind.
He took the feather as bold as a lion, looked at the end of it, and then
he said, careless-like:

"'Well, I declare! I guess I must be moulting,' and with that, off he
flew. We didn't see him again for as much as two weeks, and then he
agreed not to write any poetry about us if we wouldn't tell the story of
the feathers; but young Mr. Thomas Cat couldn't hold in, and reported it
far and near, till Mr. Crow paid him back in good shape."




WHEN YOUNG THOMAS CAT PAINTED A CANARY.


"But what about painting a canary?" your Aunt Amy asked. "You spoke of
such a thing a moment ago."

"Yes, and it is what I am telling you about. Mr. Crow wrote the poetry
which tells the story, and you shall hear it."

Then Mrs. Mouser Cat repeated the following:

For he was such a knowing puss--
Oh yes, he was!