"Oh, how prettily it is made!" said all the court ladies.
"It is more than pretty," said the emperor; "it is charming."
The princess touched it and was ready to cry. "Fie, papa," said she, "it is not made at all. It is natural!"
"Fie," said all the court ladies; "it is natural!"
"Let us see what the other casket contains before we get into bad humor," proposed the emperor. So the nightingale came forth, and sang so delightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.
"Superbe! charmant!" exclaimed the ladies, for they all used to chatter French, and each worse than her neighbor.
"How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessed empress!" remarked an old knight. "Oh! yes, these are the same tunes, the same execution."
"Yes, yes!" said the emperor, and at the remembrance he wept like a child.
"I still hope it is not a real bird," said the princess.
"Yes, it is a real bird," said those who had brought it.