"I have a shrewd idea that he won't fly away;" said Roncherolle, as he ran his knife around the crust of the pie.
"Look out, be careful, don't stick the knife in, or you will cut the bird."
"There's no danger."
At last the upper crust was taken off, and nothing came out of the pie. They all put their heads forward to look inside; but instead of a living bird, they saw only what is always found in a chicken pie: jelly, and the stuffing around the principal piece, on top of which there was a slice of pork.
Saint-Arthur was stupefied; his guests with difficulty restrained their desire to laugh.
"What does this mean, Beauvinet? where is my bird, my parrot? what have you done with him?"
"Your bird is there, monsieur; I did what you told me to: I carried him to the pastry cook, and told him to put him into the pie."
"Ah! you villain! you miserable wretch! how could you fail to understand me? I told you that I only wanted the crust put around him."
"Well, there is nothing but crust around him."
"And I added: 'You must have holes made in the top to give him air, so that we may hear him plainly.'"