Now the gypsy did not care at all what those inferior people thought of her, and she was calmly counting out their money, to return it; but she was very desirous to make Jack forget her behavior, and had begun to smile again, and tell him she had only been joking, when the parrot spoke, and, looking up, she saw the two birds sitting side by side, and the parrot-wife was screaming in her mate's ear, though neither of them was at all deaf,-- "If Jack lets her allure him into the woods, he'll never come out again. She'll hang him up in a cage, as she did us. I say, how does my shawl fit?" So saying, the parrot-wife whisked herself round on the perch, and lo! in the corner of the handkerchief were seen some curious letters, marked in red. When the crowd saw these, they drew a little farther off, and glanced at one another with alarm. "You look charming, my dear; it fits well!" screamed the old parrot in answer. "A word in your ear; 'Share and share alike' is a fine motto." "What do you mean by all this?" said the gypsy, rising, and going with slow steps to the cage, and speaking cautiously. "Jack," said the parrot, "do they ever eat handkerchiefs in your part of the country?" "No, never," answered Jack. "Hold your tongue and be reasonable," said the gypsy, trembling. "What do you want? I'll do it, whatever it is." "But do they never pick out the marks?" continued the parrot. "O Jack! are you sure they never pick out the marks?" "The marks?" said Jack, considering. "Yes, perhaps they do." "Stop!" cried the gypsy, as the old parrot made a peck at the strange letters. "Oh! you're hurting me. What do you want? I say again, tell me what you want, and you shall have it." "We want to get out," replied the parrot; "you must undo the spell." "Then give me my handkerchief," answered the gypsy, "to bandage my eyes. I dare not say the words with my eyes open. You had no business to steal it. It was woven by human hands, so that nobody can see through it; and if you don't give it to me, you'll never get out,--no, never!" "Then," said the old parrot, tossing his shawl off, "you may have Jack's handkerchief; it will bandage your eyes just as well. It was woven over the water, as yours was." "It won't do!" cried the gypsy, in terror; "give me my own." "I tell you," answered the parrot, "that you shall have Jack's handkerchief; you can do no harm with that." By this time the parrots all around had become perfectly silent, and none of the people ventured to say a word, for they feared the malice of the gypsy. She was trembling dreadfully, and her dark eyes, which had been so bright and piercing, had become dull and almost dim; but when she found there was no help for it, she said,-- "Well, pass out Jack's handkerchief. I will set you free if you will bring out mine with you." "Share and share alike," answered the parrot; "you must let all my friends out too."