"Well, I never heard anything in the world like that," said the Widow Pickle. "An Enchanted Banjo, that can play by itself! Surely, this house is haunted, my children, since your poor father died! But what a situation for a lone widow to be in here in a great city, with blue- and green-haired Twins, an utter stranger, and an Enchanted Banjo, which plays by itself, and sings about the peculiar hair of my dear Twins! I always said that your poor dear father, although good, was not a practical man."
She looked at the Banjo as it lay upon the table. To her great surprise, she saw it take itself apart before her eyes. It lay there in two pieces, the neck quite apart from the head. Of course, in that position it ceased playing, and, indeed, one could have expected nothing else, for even an Enchanted Banjo can not play when it is in two pieces.
CHAPTER IV
THE SEARCH IN THE CUPBOARD
Now, presently, a very strange thing happened. The Twins, Lulu and Zuzu, stood at the edge of the table grieving very much that the Banjo was broken. Each put out a hand, Lulu touching the neck of the instrument, where, in her opinion, the music was, and Zuzu the round part or head, where he thought that the music was situated. To their great surprise, as they did this the Banjo again began to play, the two parts joining themselves together as good as new. So long as they held it in this way, it played the most beautiful and wonderful music. Stranger still, after it had finished playing, it began also to talk.
"I am the Enchanted Banjo of the King of Gee-Whiz," it said in a small, distinct, and quite unmistakable voice. "I only take myself apart to rest myself; but if you put me together again, of course I feel obliged to play for you, as that is only common politeness on my part."
"Is that indeed the truth, sir?" asked the Widow Pickle of the little dark man.