Nearly worn out, they
saw light overhead at last, and creeping through a crack into the open
air, found themselves on the fork of a huge tree. A great, broad, uneven
space lay around them, out of which spread boughs in every direction, the
smallest of them as big as the biggest tree in the country of common
people. Overhead were leaves enough to supply all the trees they had ever
seen. Not much moonlight could come through, but the leaves would glimmer
white in the wind at times. The tree was full of giant birds. Every now
and then, one would sweep through, with a great noise. But, except an
occasional chirp, sounding like a shrill pipe in a great organ, they made
no noise. All at once an owl began to hoot. He thought he was singing. As
soon as he began, other birds replied, making rare game of him. To their
astonishment, the children found they could understand every word they
sang. And what they said was something like this:
"'I will sing a song.
I'm the owl.'
'Sing a song, you sing-song
Ugly fowl!
What will you sing about,
Now the light is out?'
"'Sing about the night;
I'm the owl.
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