The State Umbrella, which the Dodo had been carrying, fell to the ground with a crash, and so startled the Little Panjandrum that he jumped to his feet and nervously tried to run away. The chains, however, by which the Dodo was attached to his girdle, prevented him from doing so. The bird, with his beak in the air, and his gloves extended in a most grotesque attitude, was immovable and rigid as stone. Not a muscle moved, and the Little Panjandrum, after staring at him a moment, called out, angrily-- "Olla--balloo--calle--gablob?" There was not the slightest movement on the part of the bird, and just then the Ambassador returned. "Hullo! What's the trouble?" he cried, staring at the Dodo. "Gablobbee--balloo--olla--wobble!" said the Little Panjandrum, excitedly. "What!" exclaimed the Ambassador, "something gone wrong with the Dodo? Here, what's the matter with you?" he continued, giving the bird a shake. The Dodo didn't budge an inch, but continued in the same position, his eyes fixed in a stony stare. "I can't think what's wrong with him," declared the Ambassador, with a puzzled expression on his face. "Perhaps he's turned into stone, like the others," suggested Dick, mischievously. "Ah!" said the Ambassador, clapping his hand to his forehead in a dramatic manner; "_that's_ what it is, depend upon it. Good gracious! _how_ unfortunate. Let's see, what did I say when pronouncing the spell?" "Why, after mentioning most of the creatures' names, you said, 'and all other prehistoric wretches.' I remember quite well," said Marjorie, "because I thought at the time it was rather rude of you to call them wretches." "H'm! Then _he_ must have been a prehistoric wretch," said the Ambassador, absently. "Dear me! I always knew he was extinct, but I had no idea he was antediluvian as well. That accounts for a lot of things. No wonder he was eccentric." And he gazed at the Dodo quite sorrowfully. "Well, well," he resumed, "it can't be helped now. We must make the best of a bad matter; all the talking in the world won't restore him to life again." And he turned to the Little Panjandrum and entered into a lengthy conversation with him in their native language, which the children could not understand in the least. [Illustration: The Dodo was rigid, motionless.] The Little Panjandrum seemed greatly distressed at the disaster which had befallen the Dodo, and, it appeared, insisted upon a monument being erected to his memory. Thereupon the Ambassador, by a brilliant inspiration, thought of the novel plan of making the bird act as his own statue. "As he is turned into stone," said he, "we have only to find a pedestal to put him on, and there we are." A little way off, a stone Cupid, rather the worse for wear, stood beside the pathway, and this, the Ambassador decided, should be removed to make way for the Dodo.