In a big house, not so very long ago, lived a little boy who didn't have a mommy or daddy. He worked for a rich man and his wife, who were, to put it mildly, not very kind. From sun-up to way past sun-down, the little boy had to scrub, sweep, and fetch. His tummy often rumbled like a distant thunderstorm because they gave him only tiny scraps to eat.

One day, the master's wife was in a slightly less grumpy mood than usual. She gave the boy a small piece of meat – a real treat! The boy was so surprised and happy. He didn't want to eat it all at once. "I'll save this for later," he thought, and he carefully hid it under his thin pillow.

Later, the master, who was always looking for something to be angry about, started shouting, "Where is my special piece of meat? Someone has stolen it!"

The little boy, trembling like a leaf, whispered, "I... I have it, sir. I was saving it."

The master turned redder than a tomato. He didn't believe the boy. He thought the boy was a thief. And then, in his terrible anger, the master did something awful. So awful, that the little boy couldn't run or play or even whisper anymore.

The master and his wife were scared. "We must hide him!" they whispered. So, in the dark of night, they took the poor little boy out to the garden and buried him under a big, leafy tree. They thought their secret was safe.

But secrets have a funny way of not staying secret.

The very next morning, a little bird with bright, cheerful feathers landed on a branch of that same tree. It began to sing a sweet, clear song:

"My master, oh so mean,
Took my life, a dreadful scene.
He buried me beneath this tree,
For all the world, but not for me!"

The master heard the song. He stomped out into the garden. "Shoo, you noisy bird!" he yelled, waving his arms. The bird just flew to a higher branch and sang its song again, a little louder this time.

The master's wife came running. "What is that bird singing?" she asked, her face pale.

The bird sang again:
"My mistress watched, she didn't care,
As I was buried, in despair.
Under the leaves, so deep I lie,
While they hoped no one heard my cry!"

The master was furious! He picked up a big stone. "I'll stop your singing!" he roared, and threw the stone at the bird.

But the little bird was quick! It zipped out of the way. And the big, heavy stone? It went up, up, up... and then it came down, down, down, right on top of the wicked master and his wife! And they weren't mean to anyone ever again.

The little bird, its song finished, chirped one last time and then flew high up into the bright blue sky, free and happy. And some say, if you listen very carefully near old trees, you might still hear a little bird singing a song of truth.

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