When Nick reached the top of the hole, he climbed out onto a branch of the beech tree. The starling was perched on a nearby twig.

“Hello,” Nick said. “Are you still here?”

“That’s a stupid question,” the bird said. “Do I look as if I’m somewhere else? Anyway, I have as much right to be here as you do. Maybe more.”

Marjorie turned off her flashlight and put it into her pocket. Then she crawled out of the hole in the tree. She sat down on the branch beside Nick.

“Where’s your sister?” the starling asked. The bird was looking right at Marjorie.

Marjorie thought it would be fun to play a trick on it. She took the key off her neck and slipped the string over Nick’s head.

“Awk!” The starling stared first at Marjorie and then at the place where Nick had been a moment before.

It looked so surprised that Marjorie couldn’t help laughing.

“Oh, there you are, Marge,” Nick said. “I thought it was about time you got out of the tree.” Suddenly he stopped talking and just stared at her. “I can see you! Did you drop the key?”

“No. I just gave it back to you.” Marjorie untied the clothesline from the branch and took the big wooden spoon out from under her shirt. Then she began to wind the rope around the spoon.

The starling watched everything.

Marjorie finished winding up the clothesline. She tucked the wooden spoon under her arm. “Come on, Nick. Let’s go.”

There was no answer.

Marjorie reached out to touch her brother’s arm. She felt only air. “Nick,” she yelled, “where are you?”

“I’m down here on the ground already,” Nick shouted. “What’s taking you so long?”

Marjorie started down the tree. It was easier than when she climbed down to go home for the rope. Marjorie didn’t step on any weak branches. And this time she didn’t hurry. When she got to the bottom she slid down the trunk of the tree.

Marjorie landed on her feet and started walking quickly along the path. She heard footsteps behind her.

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” Nick asked.

“You didn’t wait for me,” Marjorie told him. “And you scared me. You’d better not do anything like that again with the magic key.”

“Don’t be mad, Marge. You were playing tricks yourself,” Nick reminded her. “I know what’s wrong with you,” he said. “You’re hungry. You’ll feel much better after lunch.”

“So would I—if I had any lunch,” a voice croaked.

Marjorie and Nick looked up. The starling was sitting on the branch of a young oak tree. “I’m sick of mulberries,” the bird said. “What are you going to eat?”

“Whatever Mom left for us in the refrigerator,” Nick said.

Marjorie was sorry now that she’d played a trick on the bird. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” she said.

“Don’t mind if I do.” The starling flew down and perched on the end of the wooden spoon.

Marjorie and Nick took the bird home with them.