THE WIND'S FROLIC
"Down you go," cried the wind to the leaves one morning in autumn. And down he blew them in crowds from the trees, brown ones, red ones, and yellow ones. Then he drove them scurrying before him up the street. At last he swirled them together in heaps, and left off to rest.
So there we too shall let them lie.
THE DEAD CANARY
The little yellow canary that used to sing so sweetly grew sick and died. The children wept to see it.
"Let us bury him under the apple-tree," said Alice; "every spring it will cover his grave with white blossoms."
So Robert dug a small grave under the apple-tree, and Alice laid the canary gently in it. They covered him with the soft earth.
Every spring the apple-tree sent down his white blossoms on the grave.
THE SWAN'S MEAL
One morning as a shining white swan sailed about on the lake he saw a boy on the bank, eating some bread. He swam over to the boy and thrust out his long white neck toward the bread.
