The parrot stopped marching, stuck his head on one side and listened.

Aunt Emma rapped again.
"Come in!" said the parrot suddenly, quite softly, as if he had turned into quite another person.

"Hush--sh--sh, cat's got a mouse!" "Well, Polly," said Aunt Emma, "I suppose she may have a mouse if she likes.

Is that all you've got to tell us?
Polly, where's gardener ?" "Get away! get away!" screamed Polly, while all his feathers began to stand up straight, and his eyes looked fierce and red like two little live coals.
"That always makes him cross," said Aunt Emma; "he can't bear gardener.
Come, Polly, don't get in such a temper." "Oh, isn't he like the witches on the broom-sticks in our fairy-book, Olly ?" cried Milly.

"Don't you think, Aunt Emma, he must have been changed into something?
Perhaps he was a wicked witch once, or a magician, you know, and the fairies changed him into a parrot." "Well, Milly, I can't say.