Maybe she’s wiser than anyone else in the forest. She’s the one who leaves me! I’m sure she knows it’s best for me to be alone without anyone watching.”

“And grown up,” he added.

“Oh, be quiet,” she said. “I’ve learned a great deal from my mother.”

But Porro said gravely, “Everyone has to learn for himself.”

Perri began to feel that Porro was very wise.

In the woods the berries were ripening. The brush was spangled with little bright-colored fruits. On the ground there were whole stretches of thick greenery which glowed as if with spattered blood, and from which a sweet scent went up.

Porro led his friend to the strawberries, to the wild currants, to the juniper berries and to all the other tidbits. The two of them had a regular feast. They soon tired of the strawberries, and paid no further attention to them. “They’re too soft,” said Porro, whereupon Perri turned up her nose. But she did not like juniper either; she disliked its aromatic scent, and Porro’s urging did little good. She said it was too strong and bitter.

“Food for men,” said Porro proudly.

“Perhaps,” Perri replied doubtfully.

When they met the big black squirrel, feasting eagerly at the juniper bush, Porro cried, “See? He knows what’s good!” Then he said, “Hello, old Mirro.”

“Ah, the little fellow,” laughed Mirro. “Hello there!”

“Is it good?” asked Porro.

“The berries make you dizzy, but they make you strong.” Then Mirro shrilled, “Come on, children!” He raced up the treetops, and did breakneck acrobatics, all the time shouting, “Come on, children! This way, this way!”

But the children ducked and whisked away through the low bushes. They did not want to stay with the old fellow; they were tacitly agreed to avoid adults whenever possible.

They rocked on the broad fruit-saucers of the elderberry bush. Blackbirds, titmice, finches and even magpies fluttered a few clusters farther on when the squirrels arrived.

“Happy days!” rejoiced the finch; the blackbird agreed, “Enough for all!” By this they meant to show the two squirrels that they were not being disturbed. The magpie for once was quiet, which meant the same thing. All three, blackbird, finch and magpie, really preferred grasshoppers, insects, butterflies and spiders; the blackbird was fond of earthworms, the magpie liked eggs or the flesh of a young brood. But they could not resist the soft luxuriance of the ripe fruit. There was something kindly, something peaceful and rich about the forest today.

“Bold thing!” said the jay angrily to Perri. Perri sat intent on the elderberry bush; she looked up for a moment, and casually went on eating. “Bold thing!” repeated the jay.

Perri paid no attention, but Porro asked, “Do you mean these belong to you? Is that why you sound so angry?”

“It all belongs to me,” shouted the jay, “everything! You’re only intruders!”

The magpie chattered tauntingly, and finally Perri said, “It all belongs to you? Now it tastes all the better!”

“I didn’t invite you!” he cried loudly.

“That’s just why,” said Perri. “Now I’ll eat twice as much!”

Everyone laughed while the jay screeched, “Impudence!”

Porro barked at him, “Hold your tongue!”

“Impudence! Impudence!”

As if at a word of command, both squirrels jumped at the jay. He fluttered to the nearest tree in alarm, and began to fuss again. But as Porro and Perri started to chase him, he flew off. Farther and farther away they heard him raging: “Thieves! Scoundrels! Impudent rascals!”

“He doesn’t own the berries!” said Porro.

Perri laughed. “He thinks he’s the best singer in the forest. He’s hated me ever since I told him his voice was ugly.”

“Child,” said the magpie, “he would have hated you anyway; he can’t get along with anyone.”

“He never leaves anybody in peace,” agreed the finch, “and he hates me like poison.”

“Me too,” said the blackbird. “He’s always quarreling.”

“He’s vain and proud,” said the magpie, and Porro finished, “In other words, an old stupid.”

About midday a great stillness fell. The leaves quivered in the sun. The grasses, the ferns, the wood-peas, the colt’s-foot, the curled mint and the other ground plants spread toward the light or shut themselves away from it, each according to its nature. Smells evaporated in the warm air. Now and then some sharp odor, thin and strong, pierced the green emptiness.