"
"Then," said the little bird, "I'll moult all my feathers." So he
moulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking
below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers' and sisters' supper,
and when she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she
said: "Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?" "Oh!" said
the little bird, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and
the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form
runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds its leaves, and so I
moult all my feathers."
"Then," said the little girl, "I'll spill the milk." So she dropped
the pitcher and spilt the milk. Now there was an old man just by on
the top of a ladder thatching a rick, and when he saw the little girl
spill the milk, he said: "Little girl, what do you mean by spilling
the milk? Your little brothers and sisters must go without their
supper." Then said the little girl: "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps,
the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window
creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds all
its leaves, the little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill
the milk.
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