Bernard the Bull lived at Buttercup Farm， and spent most of his time in River Meadow.
Along the banks of the river grew tall reeds and grasses which swayed and rustled to the music of the wind.
One day Bernard was standing in the tall grasses， watching the dance of the reeds and listening to the song of the wind， when he felt that he， too， must dance.
First of all， he lowered his great head and moved it from side to side， then he waved his tail， following the movements of the rushes.
As he swayed the wind grew stronger， and its music grew louder and LOUDER and LOUDER！ Then Bernard wasn't content to move his head and wave his tail-he stamped with his hoofs， he kicked up his heels， he galloped along the bank， then danced round and round.
At last the wind stopped blowing， its music died away and everything was still. Bernard sank down on the soft grass， tired of dancing.
The next day was another windy day. The rushes were lashed this way and that. The wind roared through the tall trees at the end of the field. Bernard was excited. He sang， he swayed， he danced. “Look at Bernard！” cried the farmer's little girl as she climbed on the gate. “He's dancing.” Her daddy laughed. “A bee has stung him，” he said-but， of course， the little girl was right.