Running down the long hall , she peeped out at both doors , but saw nothing feathered except a draggle-tailed chicken under a burdock leaf . She listened again , and the sound seemed to be in the house . Away she went , much excited by the chase , and following the changeful song , it led her to the china-closet door . `` In there ? How funny ! '' she said . But when she entered , not a bird appeared except the everlastingly kissing swallows on the Canton china that lined the shelves . All of a sudden Rose 's face brightened , and , softly opening the slide , she peered into the kitchen . But the music had stopped , and all she saw was a girl in a blue apron scrubbing the hearth . Rose stared about her for a minute , and then asked abruptly , `` Did you hear that mocking-bird ? '' `` I should call it a phebe-bird , '' answered the girl , looking up with a twinkle in her black eyes . `` Where did it go ? '' `` It is here still . '' `` Where ? '' `` In my throat . Do you want to hear it ? '' `` Oh , yes ! I 'll come in . '' And Rose crept through the slide to the wide shelf on the other side , being too hurried and puzzled to go round by the door . The girl wiped her hands , crossed her feet on the little island of carpet where she was stranded in a sea of soap-suds , and then , sure enough , out of her slender throat came the swallow 's twitter , the robin 's whistle , the blue-jay 's call , the thrush 's song , the wood-dove 's coo , and many another familiar note , all ending as before with the musical ecstacy of a bobolink singing and swinging among the meadow grass on a bright June day .
XXXXX was so astonished that she nearly fell off her perch , and when the little concert was over clapped her hands delightedly .
Canton Rose bobolink burdock coo minute phebe-bird soap-suds twitter wood-dove