“I see,” he said, addressing the little angels who helped him keep these records, “I see the name of the Little Chinese Emperor. And there is a cross opposite his name. Has he been naughty?” he asked. “Has he been picking the sacred lotus flowers of his honorable ancestors? Has he——”
“Oh, please,” interrupted one of the smallest angels, “I put that cross there to remind me to tell you something about the Little Emperor. You see he hasn’t been naughty—not exactly—but he’s made a mistake. He doesn’t understand,” said the smallest angel, with his eyes round and serious.
“And can I help the Little Emperor understand?” asked the Driver of the Dream Coach.
“Of course you can!” cried the smallest angel, beaming brightly. “It’s this way. The Little Chinese Emperor has a friend of mine fastened up in a cage, where he is very sad——”
“An angel in a cage?” asked the Driver. “I never heard of such a thing!”
“Well, not exactly an angel, a——”
But what it was, and how the Driver helped the little angel’s friend——
That you shall hear.
The Little Emperor was dreadfully bored. He yawned so that his round little face, as round and yellow as a full moon, grew quite long, and his nose wrinkled up into soft yellow creases, like cream that is being pushed back by the skimmer from the top of a bowl of milk. His slanting black eyes shut up tight, and when they opened they were so full of tears that they sparkled like blackthorn berries wet with rain.