While the Master Cook was upstairs, the golden bird came again to perch
on the window-sill, and called in his clear voice to the head scullion,
who was watching the spit:
‘Good-morning, my fine Scullion!’
‘Good-morning, lovely Golden Bird,’ replied the Scullion, whom the
Master Cook had forgotten in his excitement to warn.
‘I pray Heaven,’ went on the Canary, ‘that it will send you to sleep,
and that the goose may burn, so that there may be none left for Titty.’
And the Scullion fell fast asleep, and when the Master Cook came back
he found the goose as black as the chimney.
In a fury he woke the Scullion, who in order to save himself from blame
told the whole story.
‘That accursed bird,’ said the Cook; ‘it will end by getting me sent
away. Come, some of you, and hide yourselves, and if it comes again,
catch it and wring its neck.’
He spitted a third goose, lit a huge fire, and seated himself by it.
The bird appeared a third time, and said: ‘Good-morning, my fine Cook.’
‘Good-morning, lovely Golden Bird,’ replied the Cook, as if nothing had
happened, and at the moment that the Canary was beginning, ‘I pray
Heaven that it may send,’ a scullion who was hidden outside rushed out
and shut the shutters. The bird flew into the kitchen. Then all the
cooks and scullions sprang after it, knocking at it with their aprons.
At length one of them caught it just at the very moment that Tubby
entered the kitchen, waving his sceptre. He had come to see for himself
why the goose had never made its appearance.
The Scullion stopped at once, just as he was about to wring the
Canary’s neck.