The angels arose and, much as the ass did they shook themselves; there was no further toilet than that practicable; they ran their hands through their abundant hair, and the two who had beards combed these also with their fingers—then they looked around them.
Now the birds were sweeping and climbing on the shining air; they were calling and shrieking and singing; fifty of them, and all of the same kind, came dashing madly together, and they all sang the one song, so loud, so exultant, the heaven and earth seemed to ring and ring again of their glee.
They passed, and three antic wings came tumbling and flirting together; these had no song or their happiness went far beyond all orderly sound; they squealed as they chased each other; they squealed as they dropped twenty sheer feet towards the ground, and squealed again as they recovered on a swoop, and as they climbed an hundred feet in three swift zigzags, they still squealed without intermission, and then the three went flickering away to the west, each trying to bite the tail off the others.
There came a crow whose happiness was so intense that he was not able to move; he stood on the hedge for a long time, and all that time he was trying hard to compose himself to a gravity befitting the father of many families, but every few seconds he lost all control and bawled with fervour. He examined himself all over; he peeped under his feathers to see was his complexion good; he parted the plumage of his tail modishly; he polished his feet with his bill, and then polished his bill on his left thigh, and then he polished his left thigh with the back of his neck. “I’m a hell of a crow,” said he, “and everybody admits it.” He flew with admirable carelessness over the ass, and cleverly stole two claws and one beak full of hair; but in midair he laughed incautiously so that the hair fell out of his beak, and in grabbing at that portion he dropped the bits in his claws, and he got so excited in trying to rescue these before they reached the ground that his voice covered all the other sounds of creation.
The sun was shining; the trees waved their branches in delight; there was no longer murk or coldness in the air; it sparkled from every point like a vast jewel, and the brisk clouds arraying themselves in fleeces of white and blue raced happily aloft.
That was what the angels saw when they looked abroad; a few paces distant the cart was lying with its shafts up in the air, and a tumble of miscellaneous rubbish was hanging half in and half out of it; a little farther the ass, in a concentrated manner, was chopping grass as quickly as ever he could, and, naturally enough, eating it; for after thinking deeply we eat, and it is true wisdom to do so.
The eldest of the angels observed the donkey. He stroked his beard.
“One eats that kind of vegetable,” said he.
The others observed also.
“And,” that angel continued, “the time has come for us to eat.”
The second eldest angel rolled his coal-black chin in his hand and his gesture and attitude were precisely those of Patsy Mac Cann.
“I am certainly hungry,” said he.
He picked a fistful of grass and thrust some of it into his mouth, but after a moment of difficulty he removed it again.
“It is soft enough to eat,” said he musingly, “but I do not care greatly for its taste.”
The youngest angel made a suggestion.
“Let us talk to the girl,” said he.
And they all moved over to Mary.
“Daughter,” said the eldest of the three, “we are hungry,” and he beamed on her so contentedly that all fear and diffidence fled from her on the instant.
She replied:
“My father has gone down the road looking for food; he will be coming back in a minute or two, and he’ll be bringing every kind of thing that’s nourishing.”
“While we are waiting for him,” said the angel, “let us sit down and you can tell us all about food.”
“It is a thing we ought to learn at once,” said the second angel.
So they sat in a half circle opposite the girl, and requested her to give them a lecture on food.
She thought it natural they should require information about earthly matters, but she found, as all unpractised speakers do, that she did not know at what point to begin on her subject. Still, something had to be said, for two of them were stroking their beards, and one was hugging his knees, and all three were gazing at her.
“Everything,” said she, “that a body can eat is good to eat, but some things do taste nicer than others; potatoes and cabbage are very good to eat, and so is bacon; my father likes bacon when it’s very salt, but I don’t like it that way myself; bread is a good thing to eat, and so is cheese.”
“What do you call this vegetable that the animal is eating?” said the angel pointing to the ass.
“That isn’t a vegetable at all, sir, that’s only grass; every kind of animal eats it, but Christians don’t.”
“Is it not good to eat?”
“Sure, I don’t know. Dogs eat it when they are sick, so it ought to be wholesome, but I never heard tell of any person that ate grass except they were dying of the hunger and couldn’t help themselves, poor creatures! And there was a Jew once who was a king, and they do say
