They sowed their barley, planted their
cabbage, and, now that their trade was gone,
worked in the rich villagers' fields to make out a
scanty living.
So the seasons came and passed; spring,
summer, harvest, and winter followed each other as
they have done from the beginning. At the end of
the latter Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and
ragged that their old neighbors forgot to invite
them to wedding feasts or merrymakings, and the
brothers thought the cuckoo had forgotten them,
too, when at daybreak on the first of April they
heard a hard beak knocking at their door, and a
voice crying:--
``Cuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents!''
Spare ran to open the door, and in came the
cuckoo, carrying on one side of its bill a golden
leaf larger than that of any tree in the North
Country; and in the other side of its bill, one like
that of the common laurel, only it had a fresher
green.
``Here,'' it said, giving the gold to Scrub and
the green to Spare, ``it is a long carriage from the
world's end. Give me a slice of barley bread, for I
must tell the North Country that the spring has
come.''
Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice,
though it was cut from their last loaf. So much
gold had never been in the cobbler's hands before,
and he could not help exulting over his brother.
``See the wisdom of my choice,'' he said,
holding up the large leaf of gold.
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