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The Hair Tree.
103

“Nevertheless, it would do very nicely for my nest, and I advise you to give me some of it,” croaked the eagle.

“Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind,” said the Queen, eagerly. “I never heard such impertinence in my life. Fly away immediately, or I will send out some of the soldiers to shoot you.”

“They couldn’t do it,” said the bird, with a low laugh; “and if you tell them to try, you will be sorry for it afterwards. Now, I shall only give you one more chance. Queen, will you give me some of your hair for my nest?”

“No, I shall not,” answered the Queen, half crying with anger; “it is very presumptuous of you to ask for such a thing.”

The bird said no more, but rising into the air began to fly slowly round and round the tree on which he had been perched, and as he flew he sang these words in a low voice,—

“As the wind blows this tree’s twigs bare,
So shall the proud Queen lose her hair;
The leaves shall come back with the first spring rain,
But when shall the Queen find her hair again?”

When he had done, the eagle gave a shrill cry

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