Pandoo patted her, and whispered something in her ear, and as she sat down he covered her over with the basket.
“She is cooped,” said Pandoo, “like one boo’ful bantam hen.”
He then played an Indian march on the guitar.
“Now we will let the little bantam free,” he cried.
He lifted the basket.
There was no Phœbe there, but in her place a huge python or boa-constrictor. He took the guitar again, and while every one looked in fear and trembling, he played a strange wild air, chanting with his voice as he did so.
The boa raised its head slowly, and finally curled itself lovingly round Pandoo’s body. But he soon disengaged it, and once more placed it under; more music, and once more he lifted the basket. The snake was gone, but in its place grew a charming rose-bush.
Pandoo was delighted. He plucked the charmed roses, and tossed them among the audience.
Again the basket was placed over the rose-bush, and he commenced to play a merry air, but lo! as he still played, the basket seemed to lift itself, and out popped Phœbe herself, as rosy and bright as the month of June, and laughing so merrily, that every one in the audience clapped their hands and cheered.
Dr. Parker now rose and said quietly—