The Crow is the Master-builder among the Birds and so it was to the Crow that the Pigeon went to learn the art of nest-making. "We begin with the sticks," said the Crow. "I know," said the Pigeon. "First we take one stick and lay it lengthwise." "I know," said the Pigeon. "Then we put a stick across it," said the Crow. "I know," said the Pigeon. "And then we put another stick lower down," said the Crow. "I know," said the Pigeon. "Then we put another stick lengthwise." "I know," said the Pigeon. "Musha," said the Crow, "If you know so much, why do you come here at all? Away with you! Fly home now and build the nest yourself." The Pigeon flew home, but of course he was not able to build his nest, for he knew nothing about the laying of sticks and the bringing of straws, and he was too young and foolish to learn when he got the chance. And that is why the Pigeon to this day cannot build a nest. [Illustration] "Why do you tell such foolish stories?" said Purpurpurati the Peacock when Hoodie had finished. "We have no other stories in our family," said Hoodie the Crow. "We don't know about Jewels and Magicians and Palaces and Kings and Dragons." "The Magician," said Purpurpurati the Peacock, "The Magician lived in a Palace of red marble that was all surrounded by a forest of black, black trees. I lived there too and I ate golden grains out of pails of silver. That was long ago and it was in far India. "The Magician had precious stones of every kind and he would have me walk beside him to the Cavern where he kept his precious stones, and as he handled them over he would tell me of the virtues that each stone possessed. And one day the Magician looking upon me said 'This Peacock I will slay, for the beauty of his neck makes dull my turquoises and the crest on his head is more shapely than my Persian jewel-work.'" "Dear me, dear me!" said Hoodie the Crow. Hearing him say this, said the Peacock "I flew into the branches of a dark, dark tree. And as I rested there the fair lady who walked about the Garden--White-as-a-Pearl she was called and she was the Magician's daughter--walked under the dark, dark trees, and I saw that she was weeping. "I knew why she wept. She wept for the young man whom her father had imprisoned in a tower. This young man was the son of a King, and the Magician was his father's brother. And if the young man died the Magician would become King in his brother's Kingdom. But the lady White-as-a-Pearl did not want the young man to die. "A little snow-white dove flew down from the tower and spoke in words to White-as-a-Pearl and asked her what word she had to send to the young man. "'You must tell him terrible news, my little snow white dove,' said White-as-a-Pearl. 'My father will have him go forth to fight with a dragon. And this is a terrible dragon. Every young man who has gone forth against him has been slain.'