He flew away, flapping his wings angrily, but he turned his head round as he went and saw Azalea and Anemone getting out upon the bank. The Sorcerer was offering them some horrible black bread and some dried peas, for he did not want them to die of hunger. If they did, he would lose all the money he hoped to get from their father.
But they were not hungry, and only shuddered as they sat close together on the sand.
“If you don’t want any food,” said Badoko, “don’t sit there whining and wasting my time.” And he dragged them into the boat again.
The raven spread his wings and flew far away up the river, and when he had gone nearly a hundred miles, he saw the Emperor’s palace underneath him. He lit upon the roof and began to caw and squall at the top of his voice, and to dance in such a way that everybody below crowded to look at him. The Emperor, who was inside, put out his head to see what all the laughter meant. The tears had been running down his face as he thought of his two little girls who had disappeared so strangely, and his nose was quite red, poor old gentleman, but he rubbed his face on his silk handkerchief and went down to the courtyard, followed by his Prime Minister. All the servants were collected and were staring up at the raven.
“What is all this about?” inquired the Prime Minister, as he strutted after his master.
“Sir, it is a raven which is dancing on the roof in a very diverting manner,” said a bystander.
The Prime Minister was accustomed to be the principal person in any crowd, and he was not best pleased at finding himself scarcely regarded; nobody was regarding the Emperor either, but he did not think of that. He put on his spectacles and looked up.
“How very unsuitable!” he exclaimed, turning his back. “Really, what we are all coming to I don’t know!”
The bird danced still more extravagantly, and even the Emperor began to smile.
“Come down from there immediately!” shouted the Prime Minister; “I wonder you are not ashamed of making such an exhibition of yourself.”