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 without meaning to, Coquerico flew at the poor fellow and called him names. And he was so conceited that he thought himself better than his brothers and sisters, and that he knew more than his mother.

So one day he hippety-hopped up to his mother and said, "My lady mother, I am too good for this family; I should be in the king's court. I'm off to Madrid, where the king lives."

"What are you thinking of, my poor little one?" cried his mother. "Who has put such nonsense into your head? Where would my little crippled one find a home like this—mulberry trees to shade him, a white-washed henroost, a high dunghill, worms and corn in plenty, brothers and sisters that are fond of him, and a mother who loves him dearly. Stay where you are, my child; believe me I know what is best for you."

"Do you think so?" said Coquerico, saucily. "I don't. I wish to go out into the world, where everyone may hear of me, I am so clever. I'm off to Madrid to see the king."

"But, my son, have you never looked in the brook?" asked his mother. "Don't you know that you have only one eye, one wing, and one leg? To make your way in the world you need the sharp eyes of a fox, the swift wings of a hawk, and the many soft legs of a spider. Once outside, you are lost."

"My good mother," said Coquerico, just as