Matilda looked about her between the games and admired everything very much, and asked questions, of course. There was a very large bird chained to a perch in the middle of a very large cage. Indeed the cage was so big that it took up all one side of the rose-garden. The bird had a yellow crest like a cockatoo and a very large bill like a toucan. (If you do not know what a toucan is you do not deserve ever to go to the Zoological Gardens again.) “What is that bird?” asked Matilda. “Oh,” said the Princess, “that’s my pet Cockatoucan; he’s very valuable. If he were to die or be stolen the Green Land would wither up and grow like New Cross or Islington.” “How horrible!” said Matilda. “I’ve never been to those places, of course,” said the Princess, shuddering, “but I hope I know my geography.” “All of it?” asked Matilda. “Even the exports and imports,” said the Princess. “Goodbye, I’m so thin I have to rest a good deal or I should wear myself out. Nurse, take her away.” So nurse took her away to a wonderful room, where she amused herself till tea-time with all the kind of toys that you see and want in the shop when some one is buying you a box of bricks or a puzzle map—the kind of toys you never get because they are so expensive. Matilda had tea with the King. He was full of true politeness and treated Matilda exactly as though she had been grown up—so that she was extremely happy and behaved beautifully. The King told her all his troubles. “You see,” he began, “what a pretty place my Green Land was once. It has points even now. But things aren’t what they used to be. It’s that bird, that Cockatoucan. We daren’t kill it or give it away. And every time it laughs something changes. Look at my Prime Minister. He was a six-foot man. And look at him now. I could lift him with one hand. And then your poor maid. It’s all that bad bird.” “Why _does_ it laugh?” asked Matilda. “I can’t think,” said the King; “I can’t see anything to laugh at.” “Can’t you give it lessons, or something nasty to make it miserable?” “I have, I do, I assure you, my dear child. The lessons that bird has to swallow would choke a Professor.” “Does it eat anything else besides lessons?” “Christmas pudding. But there—what’s the use of talking—that bird would laugh if it were fed on dog-biscuits.” His Majesty sighed and passed the buttered toast. “You can’t possibly,” he went on, “have any idea of the kind of things that happen. That bird laughed one day at a Cabinet Council, and all my ministers turned into little boys in yellow socks. And we can’t get any laws made till they come right again. It’s not their fault, and I must keep their situations open for them, of course, poor things.” “Of course,” said Matilda. “There was a Dragon, now,” said the King. “When he came I offered the Princess’s hand and half my kingdom to any one who would kill him. It’s an offer that is always made, you know.” “Yes,” said Matilda.