Jack did not know how this could have told him, so he only answered, “Indeed!”
“I’m a fairy,” observed the parrot, in a confidential tone. “We are imprisoned here by our enemies the gipsies.”
“So we are,” answered a chorus of other parrots.
“I’m sorry for that,” replied Jack. “I’m friends with the fairies.”
“Don’t tell,” said the parrot, drawing a film over his eyes, and pretending to be asleep. At that moment his friend in the moss petticoat and feather cloak came up with a little measure of maize, and poured it into the cage.
“Here, neighbour,” she said; “I must say good-bye now, for the gipsy is coming this way, and I want to buy some of her goods.”
“Well, thank you,” answered the parrot, sobbing again; “but I could have wished it had been a pocket-handkerchief.”
“I’ll lend you my handkerchief,” said Jack. “Here!” And he drew it out and pushed it between the wires.
The parrot and his wife were in a great hurry to get Jack’s handkerchief. They pulled it in very hastily; but instead of using it they rolled it up into a ball, and the parrot-wife tucked it under her wing.
“It makes me tremble all over,” said she, “to think of such good luck.”