A squirrel came darting through the trees, a streak of red amid the green. She stopped on a low branch, flirted her bushy flag and complained, “Can’t you hear me? I asked you who you are!”

“Oh, probably you’ve never been to our place down in the garden,” Manni answered politely. “Otherwise you’d know me.”

“Garden?” repeated Perri. “What’s that? And where is it?”

“Down there where the forest stops. It’s a piece of land. All the trees are cared for, and the bushes too. And He plants flower beds among them. You’d like it there.”

The little squirrel laughed. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. I don’t like any place but this. How’d you ever happen to come up to the forest?”

“Oh, I—I just wanted to—”

“You stutter and mumble so!” the squirrel interrupted. “Ah! Now I know who you are. You’re the stupid one! The big stupid!”

The donkey opened his eyes wide in hurt surprise. “You’re wrong, my little friend. Let me tell you—”

But Perri had already scampered up the tree and disappeared.

Manni broke farther through the thicket. The beauty of the forest took his mind from his hurt feelings. “Why, it’s magnificent here!” he thought.

Suddenly he halted. Two roe deer sprang up in fright and bounded off. They were soon out of sight. All he could hear was their frightened Ba-uh! He thought, “Funny—they’re afraid of me! I’d have liked to talk with them. And they’re red, too, like the little tree-dancer. It seems everybody in the forest is red.”

“Oh, ye-es! Who-o is he-ere?” exulted the oriole above his head.

Manni stopped short again, for he felt obliged to answer. “It’s I,” he said, but only in a small voice lest he frighten another creature away.

Paying no attention, the oriole kept up his glad shouting. “Who is he-ere? I am he-ere!”

Manni caught sight of the lovely bird throwing himself in short jerky flights from treetop to treetop.

“What a wonderful yellow he is—as if he’d been dipped in sunshine!” thought the donkey, standing still amid thick bushes in order to see the happy ball of feathered color again.

Closer to him, a magpie alighted on a hazel bush and the branch swung to and fro a little. When Manni turned to her, the magpie started in alarm.

The donkey asked politely, “Do you know that mad singer up there?”

Reassured, the magpie cackled sarcastically: “The yellow one? Why shouldn’t I know him? But I’m meeting you now for the first time. What are you after?”

“Nothing,” Manni replied, “nothing, really. You needn’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt anybody.”

“Well, well!” mocked the magpie. Just by way of caution she sought a perch somewhat higher. “That’s what the red robber says, too.”

“Red!” The word slipped off Manni’s tongue.