Master Crow is comfortably perched on a tree quite pleased with himself. Just that morning he’d found a nice chunk of cheese just the way he likes it, not too hard, not too soft, not too stinky, on a bench.

    Yes, definitely the day is starting off well.

   Master Fox, passing by, immediately whiffs the savory prize. Slowly he looks up, and smiles.

   - Dear friend, I just have to stop for a minute to contemplate your beauty, says Master Fox. Your feathers are magical, they shine like black gold in the sunlight.

   Master Crow looks down at his feathers, pleased. Master Fox is right, they are rather stunning under the sun.

   - I have heard that your voice is as beautiful as your feathers, says Master Fox. Is this true? ...