"I'll not part with the bird," said the King, "although I'm a bit tired of his song. It's too sweet," said he, "and I prefer the cawing of crows and the croaking of ravens. However, it is much admired by others, and therefore I shall keep him." He ordered the bird to be brought and bade it sing, which it did most beautifully. "His high notes are a bit hoarse to-day," said the King. "I've heard him do better." The bird cast him a murderous glance, and Shamus, who was a singer himself, felt sore at heart that a good song should receive so little praise. However, he kept his thoughts to himself, which he had found a good practice when dealing with kings. Also, he stayed to supper with the King and afterwards sang and played, the King every now and then breaking in with a word to say how it should be done. "You do not badly for a beginner," said he when Shamus had finished. Shamus could have slain him where he stood for those ungracious words, but he bided his time, pretending to be well-pleased. When all were asleep that night, Shamus slipped from his bed and went into the woods where he began to play softly his song of the wind in the trees. Louder and louder he played, and sure enough, the blackbird soon came and perched on a tree near by. When he had done, the bird said, "It is a pleasure to hear a song well-played." "Sorry was I to hear the words of the King when you sang so sweetly before him," replied Shamus. "Little he knows of songs," retorted the bird, "and I'm thinking I'll go where I'll be appreciated." "Then come with me," said Shamus. "There are kings and kings, and some are better than others." So he told him of the King of the Little People and of the good things that came to those who sang for him. "I'll go with you," answered the bird. Quietly they slipped away lest the King of the Forest surprise them, and back they went to the King of the Little People. "Good again," acknowledged the King, and he commanded the bird to sing. "I'm almost minded to let you off the third task," the King exclaimed, "but a vow is a vow and must not be broken. Bring me last the hare that dances by moonlight." Shamus went off a third time and traveled until he came to a fine grassy slope, and there he awaited the full moon. Sure enough, as he lay hidden, out came the hare and began to dance, leaping and bounding and playing with his shadow. Then Shamus began to play, softly at first and then louder and louder. Higher and faster danced the hare to the music and when it was done he sat down, panting, on the grass. "It is a good song, and never have I danced so well," exclaimed he. "And never," said Shamus, "have I seen such wonderful dancing."