100 WINTER STORIES AND POEMS 



But now all the crows are black because there 

 was once a wicked crow who liked to tell tales. 



This beautiful snow-white crow hung in a 

 cage, in the house of its master, Phoebus. 



He was petted and smoothed and fed by the 

 master's own hand. 



But the crow was not grateful. 



Although he could sing sweetly and talk 

 prettily, he had a wicked heart. 



He did not like his master's young wife. 



He was jealous when his master talked and 

 laughed with her. 



One day Phoebus went on a long journey. 



While he was away, the crow slyly watched 

 and listened. 



He hoped to have a long tale to pour into his 

 master's -ear when he returned. 



At last Phoebus, all tired and dusty, entered 

 the house. Then the crow began to tell him 

 wicked lies. 



Now Phoebus had a hot temper. He became 

 so angry with his wife that he killed the poor 

 lady. 



Hardly had he done this awful thing than he 

 remembered how good she was and how much 

 he loved her. 



