In a sharp, cracked, but very distinct voice, and with some resemblance to a tune, the parrot began,—
"Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that"—
Here he came to an abrupt close, eying the sugar-plum wistfully.
"Sing it," said Jessie; and he began again.
"Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb—sugar—sugar—sugar,"
screamed the creature, amid peals of laughter from the children, who now begged that he might have the coveted reward, which Jessie accordingly gave him.
"He knows it all," she said; "but I can hardly ever make him sing it through."
Poll took the sugar-plum gingerly in one claw, and sat nibbling at it till it was all gone, while the children crowded around him, admiring his gay, bright-colored feathers, and expressing their wonder at his accomplishments and sense.
"Now you must show off some more," said Jessie, when the bird had disposed of his feast. "Polly, where is the naughty child?"