The witty little duck said of the Portuguese that "the old lady" was getting to be quite a "doting ducky." All the other ducks laughed at this. "'Doting ducky,'" they whispered; "oh, that's too witty!" Then they repeated the joke about "portulak" and declared it was most amusing. After that they all lay down to have a nap.
They had been lying asleep for quite a while, when suddenly something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It came down with such a bang that the whole company started up and clapped their wings. The Portuguese awoke, too, and rushed over to the other side of the yard. In doing this she trod upon the little singing bird.
"Tweet," he cried; "you trod very hard upon me, madam."
"Well, then, why do you lie in my way?" she retorted. "You must not be so touchy. I have nerves of my own, but I do not cry 'Tweet.'"
"Don't be angry," said the little bird; "the 'Tweet' slipped out of my beak before I knew it."
The Portuguese did not listen to him, but began eating as fast as she could, and made a good meal. When she had finished she lay down again, and the little bird, who wished to be amiable, began to sing:
"Chirp and twitter,
The dewdrops glitter,
In the hours of sunny spring;
I'll sing my best,
Till I go to rest,
With my head behind my wing."
"Now I want rest after my dinner," said the Portuguese. "You must conform to the rules of the place while you are here. I want to sleep now."
The little bird was quite taken aback, for he meant it kindly. When madam awoke afterwards, there he stood before her with a little corn he had found, and laid it at her feet; but as she had not slept well, she was naturally in a bad temper. "Give that to a chicken," she said, "and don't be always standing in my way."
"Why are you angry with me?" replied the little singing bird; "what have I done?"