‘No; that is a cow mooing!’ said the little kitchenmaid. ‘We are still a long way off!’
Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh. ‘Splendid!’ said the Chinese chaplain. ‘Now we hear her; it sounds like a little church-bell!’
‘No, no; those are frogs!’ said the little kitchenmaid. ‘But I think we shall soon hear her now!’
Then the Nightingale began to sing.
‘There she is!’ cried the little girl. ‘Listen! She is sitting there!’ And she pointed to a little dark-grey bird up in the branches.
‘Is it possible!’ said the First Lord. ‘I should never have thought it! How ordinary she looks! She must surely have lost her feathers because she sees so many distinguished men round her!’
‘Little Nightingale,’ called out the little kitchenmaid, ‘our Gracious Emperor wants you to sing before him!’
‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ said the Nightingale; and she sang so gloriously that it was a pleasure to listen.
‘It sounds like glass bells!’ said the First Lord. ‘And look how her little throat works! It is wonderful that we have never heard her before! She will be a great success at Court.’
‘Shall I sing once more for the Emperor?’ asked the Nightingale, thinking that the Emperor was there.