The farmer now came out to look at his rye, and when he saw the weeds in the cornfield he scratched his head with vexation and began to growl. "It's that scurvy wind that's done this," he said to Jack and Will, as they stood by his side with their hands in the pockets of their new trousers. But the breeze flew towards them and knocked all their caps off their heads, and rolled them far away to the road. The farmer and the two boys ran after them, but the wind ran faster than they did. It finished up by rolling the caps into the village pond, and the farmer and the boys had to stand a long time fishing for them before they got them out. [Illustration: PREPARING for FLIGHT] The Sparrow [Illustration: THE SPARROW] The swallow was in a bad temper. He sat on the roof close by the starlings' box and drooped his bill. "There is not a fly left to chase," he whined piteously. "They are all gone, and I am _so_ hungry--_so_ hungry!" "This morning I could not get a single worm," said the starling, and shook his head wisely. The stork came strutting along, and stood on one leg in the ploughed field just outside the garden, and looked most melancholy. "I suppose none of you have seen a frog?" he asked. "There isn't one down in the marsh, and I have not had any breakfast to-day." Then the thrush flew up and perched on the roof of the starlings' box. "How crestfallen you all are," he said. "What is the matter with you?" "Ah," answered the starling, "there's nothing else the matter, only the leaves are beginning to fall off the trees, and the butterflies and flies and worms are all eaten up." "Yes, that is bad for you," said the thrush. "Well, isn't it just as bad for you, you conceited creature?" said the swallow. But the thrush piped gaily and shook his head. "Not quite," he said. "I have always the fir trees, which don't lose their leaves; and I can live very many weeks yet on all the delicious berries in the wood." "Let us stop squabbling," said the stork. "We had better consider together what we are to do." "We can soon agree about that," answered the starling, "for we have no choice. We must _travel_. All my little ones can fly quite well now; we have been drilling every morning down in the meadow. I have already warned them that we shall be starting off one of these days." The other birds thought this very sensible--all except the thrush, who thought there was no hurry. So they agreed to collect next day down in the meadow, and hold a grand review of the party that was to travel. They flew off, each to his own quarters; but up under the roof sat the sparrow, who had heard all they had been saying.