Bruno had had time to say “I thought he wanted to see how many peoples was up the chimbley.”
And Sylvie had said “_Chimney_—not chimbley.”
All this, while the Other Professor was being extracted.
“You must have blacked your face!” the Empress said anxiously. “Let me send for some soap?”
“Thanks, no,” said the Other Professor, keeping his face turned away. “Black’s quite a respectable colour. Besides, soap would be no use without water.”
Keeping his back well turned away from the audience, he went on with the Introductory Verses:—
[Illustration: ‘BATHING CROCODILES IN CREAM’]
Little Birds are writing Interesting books, To be read by cooks: Read, I say, not roasted— Letterpress, when toasted, Loses its good looks.
Little Birds are playing Bagpipes on the shore, Where the tourists snore: “Thanks!” they cry. “’Tis thrilling! Take, oh take this shilling! Let us have no more!”
Little Birds are bathing Crocodiles in cream, Like a happy dream: Like, but not so lasting— Crocodiles, when fasting, Are not all they seem!
[Illustration: ‘THAT PIG LAY STILL AS ANY STONE’]
That Camel passed, as Day grew dim Around the ruined Pump. “O broken heart! O broken limb! It needs,” that Camel said to him, “Something more fairy-like and slim, To execute a jump!”
That Pig lay still as any stone, And could not stir a stump: Nor ever, if the truth were known, Was he again observed to moan, Nor ever wring his hoofs and groan, Because he could not jump.
That Frog made no remark, for he Was dismal as a dump: He knew the consequence must be That he would never get his fee— And still he sits, in miserie, Upon that ruined Pump!
[Illustration: ‘STILL HE SITS IN MISERIE’]
“It’s a miserable story!” said Bruno. “It begins miserably, and it ends miserablier. I think I shall cry. Sylvie, please lend me your handkerchief.”
“I haven’t got it with me,” Sylvie whispered.
“There are more Introductory Verses to come,” said the Other Professor, “but I’m hungry.” He sat down, cut a large slice of cake, put it on Bruno’s plate, and gazed at his own empty plate in astonishment.
“Where did you get that cake?” Sylvie whispered to Bruno.
“But you shouldn’t ask for things! You _know_ you shouldn’t!”
“I _didn’t_ ask,” said Bruno, taking a fresh mouthful: “he _gived_ it me.”