Understanding dawned in the Phoenix's eyes, and it eased itself back with a sigh. "Ah, you, my boy. You gave me quite a fright. I thought—" But here the Phoenix caught sight of the milk and cookies and sat up again.
"Ambrosia," it sighed reverently. "And nectar. You are a prince, my dear fellow!" And the Phoenix reached out eagerly.
"Now, Phoenix," David whispered as he wrapped the wet towel around the Phoenix's head, "what's happened?"
"Ah, that feels heavenly, my boy! (Munch munch.) What has happened? (Munch munch. Gulp.) I was insulted, I accepted a challenge, and I brilliantly maintained my honor. Let that be a lesson to you, my boy: death before dishonor. Yes, in spite of my age, I—"
"To be brief, then, my boy, for brevity is the soul of wit—although I am not trying to be witty now; I am simply too worn out—Brevity—ah—where was I?"
"I think you were telling me what happened to you tonight," David said.
"Ah, yes, quite so! Well, I raced the Witch, to put it quite simply."
"Oh, Phoenix! Did you win?"
"She said that she would 'beat my tail feathers off,' did she not? Behold, my dear fellow—every tail feather intact!"