'But it's got four legs,' said Lucy. 'Yes,' said the parrot; 'it would have, you know. It is the Hippogriff.' It was indeed that magnificent wonder. Flying through the air with long sweeps of his great white wings, the Hippogriff drew nearer and nearer, bearing on his back--what? 'It's the Pretenderette,' cried Lucy, and at the same moment Philip said, 'It's that nasty motor thing.' It was. The Hippogriff dropped from the sky to the desert below as softly as a butterfly alighting on a flower, and stood there in all his gracious whiteness. And on his back was the veiled motor lady. 'So glad I've caught you up,' she said in that hateful voice of hers; 'now we can go on together.' 'I don't see what you wanted to come at all for,' said Philip downrightly. 'Oh, _don't_ you?' she said, sitting up there on the Hippogriff with her horrid motor veil fluttering in the breeze from the now hidden sea. 'Why, of course, I have a right to be present at all experiments. There ought to be some responsible grown-up person to see that you really do what you're sure to say you've done.' 'Do you mean that we're liars?' Philip asked hotly. 'I don't mean to _say_ anything about it,' the Pretenderette answered with an unpleasant giggle, 'but a grown-up person ought to be present.' She added something about a parcel of birds and children. And the parrot ruffled his feathers till he looked twice his proper size. Philip said he didn't see it. 'Oh, but _I_ do,' said the Pretenderette; 'if you fail, then it's my turn, and I might very likely succeed the minute after you'd failed. So we'll all go on comfortably together. _Won't_ that be nice?' A speechless despair seemed to have fallen on the party. Nobody spoke. The children looked blank, the dogs whined, the camel put on his haughtiest sneer, and the parrot fidgeted in his fluffed-out feather dress. 'Let's be starting,' said the motor lady. 'Gee-up, pony!' A shiver ran through every one present. That a Pretenderette should dare to speak so to a Hippogriff! Suddenly the parrot spread its wings and flew to perch on Philip's shoulder. It whispered in his ear. 'Whispering is not manners, I know,' it said, 'but your own generous heart will excuse me. "Parcel of birds and children." Doesn't your blood boil?' Philip thought it did. 'Well, then,' said the bird impatiently, 'what are we waiting for? You've only got to say the word and I'll take her back by the ear.' 'I wish you would,' said Philip from the heart. 'Nothing easier,' said the parrot, 'the miserable outsider! Intruding into _our_ expedition! I advise you to await my return here. Or if I am not back by the morning there will be no objection to your calling, about noon, on the Dwellers. I can rejoin you there. Good-bye.' It stroked his ear with a gentle and kindly beak and flew into the air and circled three times round the detested motor lady's head.