"'Come along,' said the Ambassador."
“Come along,” he continued, catching hold of what would have been the Dodo’s ear if he had had one, but which was in reality a sort of woolly fluff growing all over his head.
“Come along, and see your friend the Little Panjandrum.”
“Leave go!” screamed the Dodo, “you hurt.”
“Rubbish!” exclaimed the Ambassador, dragging him along, “it doesn’t hurt me!”
“Oh! oh! I’ve dropped one of my gloves,” cried the Dodo, pathetically.
“If you take my advice, you’ll throw the other one away, too,” said the Ambassador; “it will only make the Little Panjandrum more angry than ever to see them.”
“They make me look so respectable,” whispered the Dodo.
“Respectable!” said the Ambassador, contemptuously; “nothing would make you respectable—you ridiculous object, you.”
“I think you are most un—un—ki—ki—kind,” sobbed the Dodo, “you are always pi—pi—pi—pitching into m—me, and ca—ca—calling me n—n—nasty names. It—it—it’s too bad.”