When the new grass, which lay below in the earth, heard this, it at once began to sprout³ and peeped out gaily⁴ from between the old yellow straw. For the grass is always in an immense hurry.

 

Now the anemones⁵ in among the trees had also heard the lapwing's cry, but refused on any account to appear above the earth:

 

"You mustn't believe the lapwing," they whispered to one another. "He's a flighty customer and not to be trusted. He always comes too early and starts calling at once. No, we will wait quietly till the starling and the swallow come. They are sensible, sober people, who are not to be taken in and who know what they are about."

 

And the starlings came.

 

They perched on a twig⁶ outside their summer villa⁷ and looked about them:

 

"Too early, as usual," said Mr. Starling. "Not a green leaf and not a fly, except an old tough one of last year, not worth opening one's beak⁸ for."

 

Mrs. Starling said nothing, but looked none too cheerful either.

 

"If we had only remained in our snug⁹ winter-quarters beyond the mountains!" said Mr. Starling. He was angry because his wife did not answer, for he was so cold that he thought a little discussion might do him good. "But it's your fault, just as last year. You're always in such a terrible hurry to come out to the country."

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