_Blackbird._ I see! I see! [_Flies away._]
_Magpie._ What! Has the blackbird gone, too? Next another layer of mud—twigs and mud, twigs and mud.
_Wise Owl._ Oh, that’s very easy! [_Flies off._]
_Magpie._ Does the wise owl think that’s all? Now more twigs round the outside. Up and down; in and out; round and round.
_Sparrow._ The very thing. [_Flies off._]
_Magpie._ Oh! but the nest is not lined yet. I make it soft and warm inside with feathers.
_Starling._ That suits me. [_Flies off._]
_Magpie._ Has the starling gone, too? It will take just one minute more.
_Turtledove._ Take two, Tousey, take two-o-o.
_Turtledove._ Take two, Tousey, take two-o-o.
_Magpie._ One is enough, I tell you. Oh! are they all gone but you, silly turtledove? And I have just finished my nest. None of them will make a nest like mine.
_Mr. Sparrow_ _Mrs. Sparrow_ _Crocus_ _Mary_ _Pussy Willow_ _Fern_ _Violet_ _Children_
_Mr. Sparrow._ There! I’m glad enough to see the last of that snow. Chirp, chirp! Did you notice, my dear Mrs. Sparrow, how quickly it melted at the last?
_Mrs. Sparrow._ Yes, it seemed in a great hurry to go. It did the same thing last year when the warm days came.
_Mr. Sparrow._ Yes, yes, it always does—and don’t you know why? How could the little worms and green things come up out of the ground if the snow stayed all summer long? And then what should we do for good things to eat?
_Mr. Sparrow._ I see a worm now. You stay right here and I’ll get him for you. [_He flies down and carries away the worm._]
_Violet._ That’s good. Worms are such dreadful creatures; always wriggling about one’s feet. I wonder what they are good for. Dear me, there’s Miss Crocus. Good morning! Did you have a good sleep?
_Crocus._ Yes, indeed. But I can’t unroll my petals far enough, I just want to stretch and stretch.
_Violet._ But it’s good to be back in the sunshine again.
_First child._ Oh, just see what I’ve found, a violet—a real one—and it’s a white one, too. Won’t Mary be glad.
_Second Child._ Oh, oh, can’t you find another?
_First Child._ No, there is just this one. I am going to take it up by the roots. Then it won’t wither.
[_Child digs up violet and puts it in her basket with the other flowers._]
_Pussy Willow._ [_In basket._] Dear me! What does this mean? Why, Violet, you’ve got some dirt in my eye and on my nice new fur.