"
This seemed a fair way of settling the matter. All the birds agreed to
it except the Plover, who went off into the woods and has lived there,
wild, ever since.
Then the birds lighted in a row, and spread their wings, and flew with
all their strength, and as high as they could, up, up into the air.
One by one, though, they dropped back for they did not all have the
same strength of wing. The Lark flew higher, indeed, than most of
them, but finally he, too, was outstripped by the Eagle, who soared
and soared until he was only a speck in the sky.
"The Eagle is our king! The Eagle is king of the birds!" sang all the
others; but, no! Way, way above the Eagle flew another bird, so tiny
that he looked like nothing but a mote, floating in the sunlight. It
was the little brown bird that sings alone in the hedges, and had no
name then. He had hidden himself in the Eagle's feathers and had been
carried up with him until he wanted to fly on by himself.
"I am the king of the birds!" he twittered as he flew down among the
others again.
But the other birds did not wish this. They did not like to think of
so tiny and humble a bird being exalted to be their king. They were
about to fall upon the little brown bird and drive him out of their
midst when the Rooster spoke to them again.
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