"If that is the case, John Dough, you must feed some of yourself to the Princess to make her strong again."
"That's what Chick says; but I don't like to do it," said John.
"You will do it, though," said the bear; "for if you don't you are no friend of mine, or of any other honest person. I'm going back to my mountain, and if you don't save the little Princess I'll never speak to you again."
Away stalked Para Bruin, and John Dough arose with a sigh and walked far into the forest, trying to make up his mind what to do. He came to the bank of the brook presently, and seating himself upon a fence beside the stream gazed into the rushing water in deep thought. From the distance came the roar of water falling over the big dam which the beavers had built, and once or twice a Mifket strayed that way and looked curiously at the silent figure of the gingerbread man. But they had orders from the Arab and Ooboo not to disturb him, so they crept away again and joined their fellows among the giant plants.
A long time John Dough sat there by the stream, until suddenly he was aroused from his musings by a shriek of discordant laughter behind him.
"Ho, ho, ho! What an absurd thing! Who'd ever have thought it?"
He turned around and saw a gorgeous macaw standing on a log back of him. The bird was all aglow with crimson and green feathers, and its black eyes twinkled mischievously, while continuous shouts of laughter came from its ruffled throat.
"Keep still, can't you?" said John, in an annoyed tone. "What are you laughing at, anyway?"