Tale of Ferdinand Frog — Mr. Crow Loses Something, </p>Mr. Frog’s Secret Sorrow, </p>and Tired Tim Does a Favour</p>

IV MR.

CROW LOSES SOMETHING

The picture of the hippopotamus on Farmer Green's barn did not please Ferdinand Frog.

But in a few moments he began to smile again.

"You've made a mistake," he told old Mr. Crow with a snicker.

"When Aunt Polly Woodchuck said I was as pretty as a picture she never could have had this one in mind."

"Why not?"

Mr. Crow inquired.

"The eyes and the mouth----" "Yes!

Yes--I know!"

Ferdinand interrupted.

"But this creature has a tail!

And tails are terribly out of fashion.

I haven't worn one since I was a tadpole."

That was enough for old Mr. Crow.

_He_ had a tail----or tail feathers, at least.

And he at once flew into a terrible rage.

"You've insulted me!"

he shouted.

Ferdinand Frog knew then that he had blundered.

So he hastened to mend matters.

"There, there!"

he said in a soothing tone.

"Having a tail is not so bad, after all; for you can always cut it off, if you want to be in style."

And he was surprised to find that his remark only made Mr. Crow angrier than ever.

[Illustration: Old Mr. Crow Plays a Joke on Mr. Frog] "Cut off my tail, indeed!"

the old gentleman snorted.

"I'd be a pretty sight, if I did.

Why, I wouldn't part with a single tail-feather, on any account."

He continued to scold Ferdinand Frog at the top of his lungs, telling him that he was a silly fellow, and that nobody--unless it was a few foolish young creatures--thought he was the least bit handsome.

Now, old Mr. Crow was in such a temper that he forgot that Farmer Green was inside the barn.

And he made so much noise that Farmer Green heard him and peeped around the corner of the barn to see what was going on.

A moment later the old shot-gun went off with a terrific roar.

Ferdinand Frog saw Mr. Crow spring up and go tearing off towards the woods.

And a long, black tail-feather floated slowly down out of the air and settled on the ground near the place where Mr. Crow had been standing.

After shaking his fist in Mr. Crow's direction, Farmer Green disappeared.

"That's a pity," Mr. Frog thought.

"Mr. Crow has parted with one of his tail-feathers.

And I must find him as soon as I can and tell him how sorry I am."

Then Mr. Frog turned to look at the other pictures, which covered the whole side of the big barn.

He beheld many strange creatures--some with necks of enormous length, some with humps on their backs, and all of them of amazing colors.

But whether they were ringed, streaked or striped, not one of them was--in Mr. Frog's opinion--one-half as beautiful as the hippopotamus.

"Even he----" Mr. Frog decided----"even he couldn't be called half as handsome as I am.

For once old Mr. Crow certainly was mistaken."

And he began to laugh.

And while he was laughing, Farmer Green came out of the barn with a pail of milk in each hand.

Then Ferdinand Frog had a happy thought.

Why not ask Farmer Green to shoot off the tail of the hippopotamus?

The loss of that ugly tail would improve the creature's looks, and make him appear still more like Mr. Frog himself.

At least, that was Mr. Frog's own opinion.

And he called to Farmer Green and suggested to him that he step out behind the barn and take a shot at the tail of the hippopotamus.

"Try your luck!"

Mr. Frog coaxed.

"It's plain to see that you need practice, or you'd have made Mr. Crow part with all his tail-feathers, instead of only one."

And he laughed harder than ever.

But Farmer Green paid little heed to Ferdinand Frog's wheedling, although he did smile and say: "I declare, I believe that bull frog's jeering at me because I missed the old crow!"

V MR.

FROG'S SECRET SORROW

Ferdinand Frog always looked so cheerful that no one ever suspected that he had a secret sorrow.

But it is true, nevertheless, that something troubled him, though he took great pains not to let a single one of his neighbors know that anything grieved him.

His trouble was simply this: he had never been invited to attend the singing-parties which the Frog family held almost every evening in Cedar Swamp.

Now, Ferdinand Frog loved to sing at night.

Indeed, he liked nothing better than to go to the lake not far from the Beaver dam and practice his songs among the lily pads near the shore.

He had a deep, powerful bass voice, which one could hear a mile or more across the water on a still evening.

Often he dressed himself with the greatest care and went to the lake alone, where he stayed half the night and sang so loudly that a good many of the wild folk who lived in the neighborhood thought him a great nuisance.

Not caring for music, they objected to being forced to listen to Ferdinand Frog's favorite songs.

"Why don't you go over to Cedar Swamp, if you want to make a noise?"

one of the Beaver family who was known as Tired Tim asked Mr. Frog one evening.

"You have come here for nine nights running; and your racket has upset me so that I haven't done a stroke of work in all this time."

Mr. Frog had puffed himself up and had just opened his mouth to begin a new song.

But upon being spoken to so rudely he closed his mouth quickly and swallowed several times.

For just a second or two he was speechless, he was so surprised.

And then presently he began to giggle.

"I believe you," he said.

"I believe that you haven't done a stroke of work for ninety nights."

He knew--as did everybody else--that Tired Tim was the laziest person for miles around.

"I said nine--not ninety," Tired Tim corrected him.

"Oh!

My mistake!"

Mr. Frog replied.

"You haven't answered my question," Tired Tim reminded him with a wide yawn.

"I asked you why you didn't attend the singing-parties over in Cedar Swamp.

You could croak your head off there and no one would stop you."

But Mr. Frog shook his head.

And at the same time, he sighed.

"No!"

he said.

"I'd rather sing here on the border of the lake.

The trouble is, _I sing too well_ for those fellows over in Cedar Swamp."

"Why don't you join them and teach them how to sing, if you know so much about it?"

Tired Tim persisted.

"Oh, I've no time for that," Ferdinand Frog answered.

And then it was his companion's turn to snicker.

"You appear to have plenty of time to waste here," he observed.

"It's my opinion that there's just one reason why you don't go to the Cedar Swamp singing parties."

"What's that?"

Mr. Frog inquired with a slight trace of uneasiness.

"They haven't invited you."

"How did you guess that?"

Ferdinand Frog asked him.

He wished, the next moment, that he had not put that question to Tired Tim.

For he saw at once that he had given his sad secret away.

VI TIRED TIM DOES A FAVOR

In spite of all Ferdinand Frog's teasing, Tired Tim Beaver refused to explain how he happened to know Mr. Frog's secret.

To tell the truth, he had _guessed_ the reason why Mr. Frog did not attend the Cedar Swamp singing-parties.

But he hoped that Ferdinand Frog would think that some of the musical Frog family had been talking to him.

And he even hinted to Mr. Frog that maybe it would be possible to get him an invitation to the singing-parties.

"Do you think you could do that?"

Ferdinand Frog asked him with, great eagerness.

"I _might_ be able to; but it wouldn't be an easy matter," Tired Tim replied.

"And I'd expect you to do something for me, if I went to so much trouble on your account."

"I'll do _anything_ for you, in return for an invitation to the Cedar Swamp singing-parties," Ferdinand Frog declared.

"Very well!"

Tired Tim told him.

"I'll go right over to the swamp now.

And when I tell 'em a few things, I know they'll want you to join 'em."

Ferdinand Frog felt so gay that he stood on his head and waved his feet in the air.

"Let's meet here to-morrow night," he suggested.

But Tired Tim objected to that plan.

"You would be hanging about this place--and singing--for four-and-twenty hours," he grumbled.

"It will be a great deal better if we meet on the edge of the swamp."

"Just as you wish!"

Ferdinand Frog exclaimed.

"And since you're going to Cedar Swamp, I'll hop along with you, to keep you company."

"You forget----" said Tired Tim Beaver----"you forget that you haven't been invited yet."

"Have you?"

Mr. Frog inquired.

"Certainly!"

said Tired Tim.

And grinning over his shoulder, he swam away.

Mr. Frog watched his friend from the shore.

"He can't fool me," he muttered.

"Tired Tim _invited himself_.

And I've been stupid not to do likewise."

On the following night Ferdinand Frog went to the edge of Cedar Swamp, where he waited somewhat impatiently on a log until Tired Tim Beaver joined him.

"Well!"

Mr. Frog cried.

"I'm glad to see you and I hope you've brought my invitation."

But Tired Tim wouldn't say yes or no. "If I succeed in getting you into the Cedar Swamp singing-parties will you promise me that you won't sing any more around the lake, or near our pond, either?"

he demanded.

Ferdinand Frog gave his solemn promise.

"Very well, then!"

Tired Tim said.

"Go along over to the swamp.

They're expecting you."

When he heard the good news Ferdinand Frog was so delighted that he leaped into the air and kicked his heels together.

And then forgetting his solemn promise, he began to bellow at the top of his voice: "To Cedar Swamp I'll haste away;

Though first I'll sing a song.

My voice I must not waste to-day, So I'll not keep you long.

I simply want to let you know I'm much obliged, before I go."

"Don't mention it!"

said Tired Tim.

"Don't interrupt me, please!"

said Ferdinand Frog.

"I haven't finished thanking you yet.

That's only the first verse."

"How many more are there?"

Tired Tim inquired with a yawn.

"Ninety-nine!"

Mr. Frog answered.

And he was somewhat surprised--and puzzled--when Tired Tim left him suddenly and plunged into the underbrush.

VII