“Of course, we know,” said Jack, after a short pause.
Mr Papingay looked both surprised and offended. “Why, how’s this?” he asked.
And the children told him, and explained about the search they were making.
“Well, well, well,” he said at length. “I’ve been searching for the Black Leaf too. I searched every inch of the Orange Wood thoroughly, directly I heard the Pumpkin was back again. And—this is what I really wanted to tell you—what do you think I did when I found that the Black Leaf wasn’t anywhere in the wood?” he asked excitedly.
“What?” cried both children together.
“Painted a Black Leaf,” he said triumphantly, beaming with joy. “And here it is.”
He opened a cupboard door behind him and disclosed a plant-pot (which was real) in which grew a black leaf (which was painted). In fact it was so entirely artificial that it wasn’t even a real leaf coloured black: it was cut out of newspaper, and painted with a thick black paint.
Jack and Molly did not speak for a moment or two. They could not. They were so thoroughly disappointed. Had they wasted all this valuable time ‘humouring’ Mr Papingay for nothing more than this? They had hardly realized how high their hopes had been, until now, when they were flung to the ground. It was with an effort that Molly kept back her tears; as for Jack, he felt he would like to kick something.
Meanwhile, Mr Papingay was perplexed at their silence. He lifted the pot down and set it on the floor in front of the bench.
“Well, what do you think of it?” he asked.