SEVENTH NIGHT
THE STORY OF BIRDS OF A FEATHER
When Sa'-zada the Keeper had gathered all his comrades in front of Chita's cage for the evening of the Bird talk, Magh clambered up on her usual perch, Hathi's head, expostulating against the folly of throwing the meeting open to such gabblers.
"Never mind," remarked Black Panther, "it's the great talkers that are thought most of here, I see. We, who have accomplished much, having earned an honest living, but are not over ready with the tongue, amount to but little."
"Scree-he-ah-h!" cried Cockatoo. "By my crest! I am surely the oldest one here; shall I begin, O Sa'-zada?"
"Cockatoo was born in Australia," declared Sa'-zada; "at least The Book says so, but the record of his age only goes back a matter of forty years."
"Just so," concurred the Cockatoo, "and from there I went to India on a ship; and for downright evil words there is no Jungle to compare with a ship. Why, damn it—excuse me, friends, even the memory of my voyage causes me to swear.
"My master, who was Captain of the ship, gave me to one of the Women-kind in Calcutta—'Mem-Sahib' the others called her. There I had just the loveliest life any poor exiled Cockatoo could wish for; it makes me swear—weep, I mean—when I think of the sweet Eatings she had for me. Not but that Sa'-zada is kind, only no one but a Woman knows how to look after a Cockatoo. At tiffin I was always allowed to come on the table, and the Mem-Sahib would take the cream from the top of the milk and give it to me. The Sahib threw pieces of bread at my head, which is like a Man's way, having no regard for the dignity of a Cockatoo.