CORBIE 



geous bits of color that it was such fun to find hidden 

 under the big green leaves! He strutted to the flower- 

 garden, and pulled off all the yellow pansies, piling them 

 in a heap. He jumped for the golden buttercups, nipping 

 them from their stems. He danced for joy among the 

 torn dandelion blooms he threw about the lawn. For 

 Corbie was like a human baby in many w^aj^s. He must 

 handle what he loved, and spoil it with his playing. 



Perhaps Corbie inherited his dancing from his grand- 

 father. It may have come down to him with that old 

 crow's merry spirit. Whether it was all his own or in 

 part his grandfather's, it was a wonderful dance, so full 

 of joy that the Brown-eyed Boy and the Blue-eyed Girl 

 would leave their play to watch him, and would call the 

 Grown-Ups of the household, that they, too, might see 

 Corbie's ''Happy Dance." 



If he was pleased with his cleverness in hiding some 

 pretty beetle in a crack and covering it with a chip, he 

 danced. If he spied the shiny nails in the tool-shed, he 

 danced. If he found a gay ribbon to drag about the 

 yard, he danced. But most and best he danced on a hot 

 day when he was given a bright basin of water. Singing 

 a lively chattering tune, he came to his bath. He cocked 

 one bright eye and then the other over the ripples his 

 beak made in the water. Plunging in, he splashed long, 

 cooling flutters. Then he danced back and forth from 



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