Page:Tales of the Punjab.pdf/171

Rh Fine feather make fine birds, we all know, and she really looked quite spruce; so much so, that when she flew home, the new wife nearly burst with envy, and asked her at once where she had found such a lovely dress.

'Easily enough,' replied the old wife; 'I just went into the dyer's vat.'

The bride instantly determined to go there also.She could not endure the notion of the old thing being better dressed than she was, so she flew off at once to the dyer's, and being in a great hurry, went pop into the middle of the vat, without waiting to see if it was hot or cold.It turned out to be just scalding; consequently the poor thing was half boiled before she managed to scramble out.Meanwhile, the gay old cock, not finding his bride at home, flew about distractedly in search of her, and you may imagine what bitter tears he wept when he found her, half drowned and half boiled, with her feathers all away, lying by the dyre's vat.

'What has happened?' quoth he.

But the poor bedraggled thing could only gasp out feebly {{block center| 'The old wife was dyed The nasty old cat! And I, the gay bride, Fell into the vat!'

Whereupon the cock-sparrow took her up tenderly in his bell, and flew away home with his precious burden.Now, just as he was crossing the big river in font of his house, the old hen-sparrow, in her gay dress, looked out of the window, and when she saw