"Yes, the Soul of all dead parrots," he answered, with an angry glare.

"It bit me this morning at the King of the Birds'.

A vicious brute.

But no one else saw it." Ula put the finger up to her own mouth, and sucked the wound gently.
Her medicine stanched it.

Then she took a thin leaf of the paper mulberry, soft, cool, and soothing, and bound it round the place with a strip of the lace-like inner bark, as deftly as any hospital nurse in London would have done it.