Dr. Coues says of it: "The kinglet's exquisite vocalization defies description."
The kinglet was the least of all,—a sort of "hop-o'-my-thumb" bird.
When they reached the village where the kinglet had lived, the escort had grown to a small army.
You're late, you lot of Failings, and the kinglet will scold.
"You are accused of being foolish," said the kinglet, with a broad grin upon his freckled face.
"The one that makes people dead," replied the kinglet, sternly.
Saying this, the wooden Indian bowed to the kinglet, gave a furious war-whoop, and stalked stiffly from the room.
The kinglet hesitated, and then jabbed the fat man with his sceptre.
The kinglet looked upon the stranger with a kindly expression.
The kinglet said nothing, but sent for the wasp, and gave him certain orders.