"Polly pretty well; Polly all right," answered the bird.
The little girls were astonished, as indeed were the ladies who had accompanied them. Not one among the group but had often seen parrots who would repeat certain set phrases, but this bird actually answered questions, and as if he understood them too.
"What does Polly want?" asked Jessie, delighted at the sensation her pet was producing.
"Polly want a bit of sugar," answered the bird.
Jessie put her hand into her pocket, and produced one of the sugar-plums the children had thrown to her, and held it up before the parrot's greedy eyes.
"Dance a jig then, and sing a song, Polly," she said.
Polly forthwith commenced a kind of seesaw on his perch, swaying his body back and forth, balancing himself first on one foot, then on the other, in a measured sort of way which he probably supposed to be dancing. At any rate, his audience were contented to accept it as such, and he met with continued applause, until suddenly bringing his gyrations to a close he screamed in a loud, discordant voice,—
"Sugar!"
"Sing then," said Jessie.