COMING TO THE BALL-ROOM 169 
nonsense, because there is no teapot under the tea- 
cosy; but remember that no one has ever taken 
that tea-cosy off. How can you tell what is under 
a tea-cosy until you take it off. (Your mother 
will tell you that this is only fwz.) 
But what a strange, curious dance it is, this 
wonderful bird dance, all in the wild, lonely forest. 
Oh, how interesting it would be to see it—to find out 
one of those little, open places where the moss is all 
pressed smooth and firm, and then to hide some- 
where near, and wait there quietly, quietly, without 
making a sound, all alone in the great, wild, lonely 
forest, until at last—at last—there is a crimson flash 
amongst the tree-trunks, and then another and an- 
other and another, as bird after bird comes flying or 
walking to the ball-room, and the dance begins. 
And sometimes you would see them chasing each 
other through the forest, all very excited, and often 
clinging to the trunks of the trees, and spreading and 
ruffing out their lovely plumage, so as to show it to 
each other, each one seeming to say, “I shink mine 
is finer than yours; perhaps | may be mistaken, but I 
think so.” What beautiful birds! and what funny 
birds, and what interesting things they do whilst 
they are alive! As soon as they are dead they are 
not funny or interesting any more, and they are 
only beautiful as a shawl or a piece of embroidery is 
