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T HE Eagle promoted the Cuckoo to the rank of a Nightingale, and at once, proud of its new position the Cuckoo seated itself upon an aspen and began to exercise its musical talents.
After a time it looked around. All the other birds were flying away, some laughing and others abusing it. The cuckoo grew angry, and hastened to the Eagle with a complaint against the birds.
"Have pity on me!" it begged. "I have been appointed Nightingale to these woods, and yet the birds dare laugh at my singing."
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"My friend," answered the Eagle, I am a king, but I am nota a god. It is impossible for me to remedy the cause of your complaint. I can order a Cuckoo to be styled a Nightingale, but to make a Nightingale out of a Cuckoo—that I cannot do."