but who can tell what the other three children, who had not cracked the shell, were thinking? could they remember the time when they began to be? could they dream of what would happen after they were hatched? could they think at all? they were tiny, weak creatures, curled up within their shells, with food packed all around them. there had been a time when they were only streaks in the yellow liquid of the eggs. now they were almost ready to leave this for a fuller, freer life, where they could open their bills and flutter their wings, and stretch their legs and necks. it had been a quiet, sheltered time in the shell; why should they leave it? ah, but they must leave it, for they were healthy and growing, and when they had done so, they would forget all about it. by the time they could talk, and that would be very soon, they would have forgotten all that happened before they were hatched. that is why you can never get a bird to tell you what he thought about while in the egg.