An old, old tree stands by the palace pond. High in its branches, Mother Crow and Father Crow have a nest — and in the nest, three warm eggs. Caw! Caw! How happy they are.
One day they fly home — and the nest is empty. Where did the eggs go? Down below, a long tail slides into a hole under the tree — swish, gone. "The cobra!" whispers Father Crow. Mother Crow wraps her wings around the empty nest and will not let go.
Up rose the cobra, tall as a ladder, hood spread wide. "This tree is mine now," he hissed. "Chase me off — if you can." But crows are small, and cobras are strong. Flap, flap — the two of them backed away.
Night. The pond lay still. The tree stood still. The two crows sat close, side by side. "We will not leave our tree," said Mother Crow softly. "There is a way. I'll find it." Father Crow leaned his head against hers.
In the morning, people from the palace came down the stone steps to bathe. And there on the steps lay the queen's golden necklace — glitter, glitter! Mother Crow's eyes went bright. "That's it!"
Swoop! Mother Crow snatched the necklace in her beak and flew. The palace guards ran after her, waving their sticks — "Stop! Stop that crow!" But she flew straight for the old tree.
Plop! Straight into the cobra's hole went the necklace. The guards dug at the hole with their sticks — they wanted that necklace back! Out burst the cobra, and away he raced — far, far away. He never came back.
By and by, new eggs came to the nest. The hole under the tree stays empty to this day. Mother Crow smooths her wings over the eggs and says, "What our strength could not do — one good idea did."