One time a knook became tired of his beautiful life and longed for
something new to do. The knooks have more wonderful powers than any
other immortal folk--except, perhaps, the fairies and ryls. So one
would suppose that a knook who might gain anything he desired by a
simple wish could not be otherwise than happy and contented. But
such was not the case with Popopo, the knook we are speaking of. He
had lived thousands of years, and had enjoyed all the wonders he
could think of. Yet life had become as tedious to him now as it
might be to one who was unable to gratify a single wish.

Finally, by chance, Popopo thought of the earth people who dwell in
cities, and so he resolved to visit them and see how they lived.
This would surely be fine amusement, and serve to pass away many
wearisome hours.

Therefore one morning, after a breakfast so dainty that you could
scarcely imagine it, Popopo set out for the earth and at once was in
the midst of a big city.

His own dwelling was so quiet and peaceful that the roaring noise of
the town startled him. His nerves were so shocked that before he had
looked around three minutes he decided to give up the adventure, and
instantly returned home.

This satisfied for a time his desire to visit the earth cities, but
soon the monotony of his existence again made him restless and gave
him another thought. At night the people slept and the cities would
be quiet. He would visit them at night.

So at the proper time Popopo transported himself in a jiffy to a
great city, where he began wandering about the streets. Everyone was
in bed. No wagons rattled along the pavements; no throngs of busy
men shouted and halloaed. Even the policemen slumbered slyly and
there happened to be no prowling thieves abroad.

His nerves being soothed by the stillness, Popopo began to enjoy
himself. He entered many of the houses and examined their rooms with
much curiosity. Locks and bolts made no difference to a knook, and
he saw as well in darkness as in daylight.

After a time he strolled into the business portion of the city.
Stores are unknown among the immortals, who have no need of money or
of barter and exchange; so Popopo was greatly interested by the
novel sight of so many collections of goods and merchandise.

During his wanderings he entered a millinery shop, and was surprised
to see within a large glass case a great number of women's hats,
each bearing in one position or another a stuffed bird. Indeed, some
of the most elaborate hats had two or three birds upon them.

Now knooks are the especial guardians of birds, and love them
dearly. To see so many of his little friends shut up in a glass case
annoyed and grieved Popopo, who had no idea they had purposely been
placed upon the hats by the milliner. So he slid back one of the
doors of the case, gave the little chirruping whistle of the knooks
that all birds know well, and called:

"Come, friends; the door is open--fly out!"

Popopo did not know the birds were stuffed; but, stuffed or not,
every bird is bound to obey a knook's whistle and a knook's call. So
they left the hats, flew out of the case and began fluttering about
the room.

"Poor dears!" said the kind-hearted knook, "you long to be in the
fields and forests again."

Then he opened the outer door for them and cried: "Off with you! Fly
away, my beauties, and be happy again."

The astonished birds at once obeyed, and when they had soared away
into the night air the knook closed the door and continued his
wandering through the streets.

By dawn he saw many interesting sights, but day broke before he had
finished the city, and he resolved to come the next evening a few
hours earlier.

As soon as it was dark the following day he came again to the city
and on passing the millinery shop noticed a light within. Entering
he found two women, one of whom leaned her head upon the table and
sobbed bitterly, while the other strove to comfort her.

Of course Popopo was invisible to mortal eyes, so he stood by and
listened to their conversation.

"Cheer up, sister," said one. "Even though your pretty birds have
all been stolen the hats themselves remain."

"Alas!" cried the other, who was the milliner, "no one will buy my
hats partly trimmed, for the fashion is to wear birds upon them. And
if I cannot sell my goods I shall be utterly ruined."

Then she renewed her sobbing and the knook stole away, feeling a
little ashamed to realized that in his love for the birds he had
unconsciously wronged one of the earth people and made her unhappy.

This thought brought him back to the millinery shop later in the
night, when the two women had gone home. He wanted, in some way, to
replace the birds upon the hats, that the poor woman might be happy
again. So he searched until he came upon a nearby cellar full of
little gray mice, who lived quite undisturbed and gained a
livelihood by gnawing through the walls into neighboring houses and
stealing food from the pantries.

"Here are just the creatures," thought Popopo, "to place upon the
woman's hats. Their fur is almost as soft as the plumage of the
birds, and it strikes me the mice are remarkably pretty and graceful
animals. Moreover, they now pass their lives in stealing, and were
they obliged to remain always upon women's hats their morals would
be much improved."

So he exercised a charm that drew all the mice from the cellar and
placed them upon the hats in the glass case, where they occupied the
places the birds had vacated and looked very becoming--at least, in
the eyes of the unworldly knook. To prevent their running about and
leaving the hats Popopo rendered them motionless, and then he was so
pleased with his work that he decided to remain in the shop and
witness the delight of the milliner when she saw how daintily her
hats were now trimmed.

She came in the early morning, accompanied by her sister, and her
face wore a sad and resigned expression. After sweeping and dusting
the shop and drawing the blinds she opened the glass case and took
out a hat.

But when she saw a tiny gray mouse nestling among the ribbons and
laces she gave a loud shriek, and, dropping the hat, sprang with one
bound to the top of the table. The sister, knowing the shriek to be
one of fear, leaped upon a chair and exclaimed:

"What is it? Oh! what is it?"

"A mouse!" gasped the milliner, trembling with terror.

Popopo, seeing this commotion, now realized that mice are especially
disagreeable to human beings, and that he had made a grave mistake
in placing them upon the hats; so he gave a low whistle of command
that was heard only by the mice.

Instantly they all jumpped from the hats, dashed out the open door
of the glass case and scampered away to their cellar. But this
action so frightened the milliner and her sister that after giving
several loud screams they fell upon their backs on the floor and
fainted away.

Popopo was a kind-hearted knook, but on witnessing all this misery,
caused by his own ignorance of the ways of humans, he straightway
wished himself at home, and so left the poor women to recover as
best they could.

Yet he could not escape a sad feeling of responsibility, and after
thinking upon the matter he decided that since he had caused the
milliner's unhappiness by freeing the birds, he could set the matter
right by restoring them to the glass case. He loved the birds, and
disliked to condemn them to slavery again; but that seemed the only
way to end the trouble.

So he set off to find the birds. They had flown a long distance, but
it was nothing to Popopo to reach them in a second, and he
discovered them sitting upon the branches of a big chestnut tree and
singing happilly.

When they saw the knook the birds cried:

"Thank you, Popopo. Thank you for setting us free."

"Do not thank me," returned the knook, "for I have come to send you
back to the millinery shop."

"Why?" demanded a blue jay, angrily, while the others stopped their
songs.

"Because I find the woman considers you her property, and your loss
has caused her much unhappiness," answered Popopo.

"But remember how unhappy we were in her glass case," said a robin
redbreast, gravely. "And as for being her property, you are a knook,
and the natural guardian of all birds; so you know that Nature
created us free. To be sure, wicked men shot and stuffed us, and
sold us to the milliner; but the idea of our being her property is
nonsense!"

Popopo was puzzled.

"If I leave you free," he said, "wicked men will shoot you again,
and you will be no better off than before."

"Pooh!" exclaimed the blue jay, "we cannot be shot now, for we are
stuffed. Indeed, two men fired several shots at us this morning, but
the bullets only ruffled our feathers and buried themselves in our
stuffing. We do not fear men now."

"Listen!" said Popopo, sternly, for he felt the birds were getting
the best of the argument; "the poor milliner's business will be
ruined if I do not return you to her shop. It seems you are
necessary to trim the hats properly. It is the fashion for women to
wear birds upon their headgear. So the poor milliner's wares,
although beautified by lace and ribbons, are worthless unless you
are perched upon them."

"Fashions," said a black bird, solemnly, "are made by men. What law
is there, among birds or knooks, that requires us to be the slaves
of fashion?"

"What have we to do with fashions, anyway?" screamed a linnet. "If
it were the fashion to wear knooks perched upon women's hats would
you be contented to stay there? Answer me, Popopo!"

But Popopo was in despair. He could not wrong the birds by sending
them back to the milliner, nor did he wish the milliner to suffer by
their loss. So he went home to think what could be done.

After much meditation he decided to consult the king of the knooks,
and going at once to his majesty he told him the whole story.

The king frowned.

"This should teach you the folly of interfering with earth people,"
he said. "But since you have caused all this trouble, it is your
duty to remedy it. Our birds cannot be enslaved, that is certain;
therefore you must have the fashions changed, so it will no longer
be stylish for women to wear birds upon their hats."

"How shall I do that?" asked Popopo.

"Easily enough. Fashions often change among the earth people, who
tire quickly of any one thing. When they read in their newspapers
and magazines that the style is so-and-so, they never question the
matter, but at once obey the mandate of fashion. So you must visit
the newspapers and magazines and enchant the types."

"Enchant the types!" echoed Popopo, in wonder.

"Just so. Make them read that it is no longer the fashion to wear
birds upon hats. That will afford relief to your poor milliner and
at the same time set free thousands of our darling birds who have
been so cruelly used."

Popopo thanked the wise king and followed his advice.

The office of every newspaper and magazine in the city was visited by
the knook, and then he went to other cities, until there was not a
publication in the land that had not a "new fashion note" in its
pages. Sometimes Popopo enchanted the types, so that whoever read
the print would see only what the knook wished them to. Sometimes he
called upon the busy editors and befuddled their brains until they
wrote exactly what he wanted them to. Mortals seldom know how
greatly they are influenced by fairies, knooks and ryls, who often
put thoughts into their heads that only the wise little immortals
could have conceived.

The following morning when the poor milliner looked over her
newspaper she was overjoyed to read that "no woman could now wear a
bird upon her hat and be in style, for the newest fashion required
only ribbons and laces."

Popopo after this found much enjoyment in visiting every millinery
shop he could find and giving new life to the stuffed birds which
were carelessly tossed aside as useless. And they flew to the fields
and forests with songs of thanks to the good knook who had rescued
them.

Sometimes a hunter fires his gun at a bird and then wonders why he
did not hit it. But, having read this story, you will understand
that the bird must have been a stuffed one from some millinery shop,
which cannot, of course, be killed by a gun.