I had now seen all the birds, but none of them were as fine as the blackbirds. I did not want to be like any of these birds; I longed to be a blackbird, a real blackbird. That was not possible. So I made up my mind to be content with my lot, as I had the heart of a blackbird even if I were not black.
A great flock of blackbirds lived on the edge of a cornfield. I went to them and asked them to let me be their helper.
"I am only a white blackbird," I said, "but I have the heart of a true blackbird."
They let me stay. I waited on them early and late, bringing straw to make nests and tender little worms for the baby blackbirds. The old birds were kind to me, and I began to be happy.
Hard work did me good. I soon grew strong, and when the crows tried to drive us away, I led the blackbirds to victory. My sight was keen, and I was the first to find out that the scarecrow was not a man. I caught more worms, too, than any of the blackbirds.

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