It was a long time ago--before any white people had invaded Birdland. The year had been unusually mild and all the birds had returned from the south where they spent the winter. So great was the rejoicing because of the early season that the king had sent invitations far and wide to a spring reception. Then what an excitement! For weeks nothing was discussed but the reception and new spring plumages. When the day arrived, birds from tree-top and meadow came by the score--waders, climbers, perchers--in fact, all kinds under the sun. The table, which, by the way, very closely resembled the ground, was festooned and hung with arbutus. Before each guest was a relish--a dainty little worm, served upon an equally exquisite plate of shellbark. But why torment ourselves with the “bill o’ fare”? Sufficient to say that it was worthy of the occasion. At the head of the table sat the king himself, a sturdy little fellow, nicely dressed in black and white, and wearing a concealed crown of gold on his head. One of the remarkable things about the king was that he did not flaunt his royalty before his subjects. Whenever he wore his crown he always concealed it under a cap of feathers, and trusted that his actions would speak his worth. Next to him sat Bob-o-link, a cheerful little dandy, but noted, nevertheless, for a good deal of courage and common sense. He was the king’s right-wing bird. On the other side was Brown Thrasher, dressed in a long-tailed coat of brown and a beautiful spotted vest. Thrasher was liked for his wit and sauciness, but on the whole he was a good deal of an adventurer. He had several times claimed kinship to the Thrushes, but they would have none of him. Among other celebrities were Mocking Bird, a great jester and all-around wit; Quail, the famous toastmaster, and, in fact, all civilized birds except Night Hawk and Whip-poor-will, who were ridiculously shy of all public gatherings, and Crow, who had not been invited. Of course, it was a great pity that Crow did not receive an invitation, but, somehow, the king had taken a strong dislike to him. The reason for this, he told his subjects, was because Crow could not sing, but it was really because he was black. The king had even hesitated about inviting Blackbird in spite of his gorgeous rainbow lustre. Well, to say the least, poor Crow’s feelings were greatly hurt. He was very sad as he sat high up in a nearby tree and looked down upon the gay tumult. Crow was a sociable fellow, and, moreover, he was very hungry. Suddenly a thought came into his cunning black head.