the Ork's head.

"It's too big to go into my mouth," said the little
creature, looking at the fruit sidewise.

"You'll have to make sev'ral mouthfuls of it, I guess,"
said Trot; and that is what the Ork did. He pecked at the
soft, ripe fruit with his bill and ate it up very
quickly, because it was good.

Even before he had finished the berry they could see
the Ork begin to grow. In a few minutes he had regained
his natural size and was strutting before them, quite
delighted with his transformation.

"Well, well! What do you think of me now?" he asked
proudly.

"You are very skinny and remarkably ugly," declared
Pessim.

"You are a poor judge of Orks," was the reply. "Anyone
can see that I'm much handsomer than those dreadful
things called birds, which are all fluff and feathers."

"Their feathers make soft beds," asserted Pessim.
"And my skin would make excellent drumheads," retorted
the Ork. "Nevertheless, a plucked bird or a skinned Ork
would be of no value to himself, so we needn't brag of
our usefulness after we are dead. But for the sake of