"I am sure the rat will not go," said the mouse. "My friend the rat is very particularly engaged, and could not possibly stir from home at this juncture. There is the missel-thrush."
"Ridiculous," said the missel-thrush. "Everybody knows I had to leave my hawthorn-tree because Prince Tchack-tchack took a fancy to it. He would very likely accuse me to his father of high treason, for he hates me more than poison ever since he did me that injury, and would lose no chance of compassing my destruction. Besides which my relative—the favourite—would effectually prevent me from obtaining an audience. Now, there's the squirrel."
"My dear sir," said the squirrel, "it is well known I never meddle with politics. I am most happy to see you all here, and you can have the use of my copse at any time, and I may say further that I sympathise with your views in a general way. But on no account could I depart from my principles."
"His principles," muttered the crow, always a cynical fellow. "His principles are his own beech-trees. If anybody touched them he would not object to politics then."
"This is rather awkward," said the owl. "There seems an embarrassment on the part of all of us, and we must own that to venture into the presence of a despotic monarch with such unpleasant advice requires no slight courage. Now, I propose that since the weasel has attained so high a reputation for address, that he be called upon to deliver our message."
"Hear, hear," said the fox.
"Hear, hear," said the stoat.
"Capital," said the chaffinch. "Old Spectacles can always see a way out of a difficulty."
"Haw!" said the rook. "I'm doubtful. Perhaps the weasel will not see it in this light."
"Buzz," said the humble-bee, just then returning. "Gentlemen, I have seen the weasel. His lordship was lying on a bank in the sun—he is very ill indeed. His limbs are almost powerless; he has taken a chill from sleeping in a damp hole. He sends his humble apology, and regrets he cannot move. I left him licking his helpless paw. Buzz, buzz."