The Eagle promoted a Cuckoo to the rank of a Nightingale. The Cuckoo,
proud of its new position, seated itself proudly on an aspen, and began
to exhibit its musical talents. After a time, it looks round. All the
birds are flying away, some laughing at it, others abusing it. Our
Cuckoo grows angry, and hastens to the Eagle with a complaint against
the birds.
"Have pity on me!" it says. "According to your command, I have been
appointed Nightingale to these woods, and yet the birds dare to laugh
at my singing."
"My friend," answers the Eagle, "I am a king, but I am not 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."