The Littlest Stork

Hello there, this is Joan Crawford to tell you about the littlest stork. Once upon a day after Christmas, there was hatched from an egg in heaven, a small, awkward handful of scrambled feathers, whose name was all long beaker, but who was to become known throughout paradise as the littlest stork.

Now since the job of stalks is to carry newborn babies to their mothers, the littlest stalk immediately went off on his shaky black toothpick legs for the bureau of heavenly transports, the vision of offspring for earth. Office of feathered employees. There they gave him his heavenly security card which he read very carefully.

Security card 28070X, founded for all stockwork by the guardian and trustful angels. Well, fiddle my feathers! It was the most heavenly place in heaven to be employed.

Babies of every kind and description were lying in cribs as far as the I I could see. And any wish that mother sent upward either by swift-winging prayer or the regular midnight post of dreams could be granted.

A very old stork who was the chief dispatcher filled out a flying license and said, Now, lift your right wing and paint the stork hoof. Yes, sir. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor comet and stay the start from the swift completion of his appointed delivery. So fiddle my feathers!

Next morning, the littlest dog presented himself for stark duty. On his back were his map case and star chart. Under his left wing hung his compass. Beneath his right wing rested his fog horn and air sickness pills. In his tail feathers was his parachute. All heaven gathered to watch the littleest stalks first take off as he raced down the storkway carrying the