Mrs. Polly, eying five freshly roasted peanuts that lay on the bottom of her cage.
Gray Whisker watched her shrewdly for an instant, but couldn't determine from her expressionless countenance whether she really meant what she said.
"It's easy enough to pick one out," he said to himself as he began to climb the drapery that hung by the parrot's cage.
Mrs. Polly watched him as he nimbly pulled himself up, and sat with her head inclined slightly forward, following every motion of his. When opposite the cage, he seized it with one of his forepaws, and with the other tried to fish out a particularly fat peanut; but before he could draw it out Mrs. Polly's sharp beak pounced down on the paw, and he gave a squeal of pain.
"Did it taste as well as those you stole from Posy?" asked Mrs. Polly.
"You old vixen!" began Gray Whisker, "you—"
