Then she jumped upon the perch, and held it with one foot, looking precisely like an old lady with a parrot's head. Then he folded Jack's handkerchief in the same way, put it on and got upon the perch beside his wife, screaming out, in his most piercing tone:
"I like shawls; they're so becoming."
Now the gipsy 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 gipsy, 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 gipsy, trembling, "What do you want? I'll do it, whatever it is."
"But do they never pick out the marks?" continued the parrot. "Oh, Jack! are you sure they never pick out the marks?"
"The marks?" said Jack, considering. "Yes, perhaps they do."
"Stop!" cried the gipsy, 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 gipsy, "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 gipsy 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 gipsy. 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."
"Then I won't let you out," answered the gipsy. "You shall come out first, and give me my handkerchief, or not one of their cages will I undo. So take your choice."
"My friends, then," answered the brave old parrot; and he poked Jack's handkerchief out to her through the wires.
The wondering crowd stood by to look, and the gipsy bandaged her eyes tightly with the handkerchief; and then, stooping low, she began to murmur something and clap her hands softly at first, but by degrees more and more violently. The noise was meant to drown the words she muttered; but as she went on clapping, the bottom of cage after cage fell clattering down. Out flew the parrots by hundreds, screaming and congratulating one another; and there was such a deafening din that not only the sound of her spell but the clapping of her hands was quite lost in it.
But all this time Jack was very busy; for the moment the gipsy had tied up her eyes the old parrot snatched the real handkerchief off his wife's shoulders and tied it round her neck. Then she pushed out her head through the wires, and the old parrot called to Jack, and said; "Pull!"
Jack took the ends of the handkerchief, pulled terribly hard, and stopped. "Go on! go on!" screamed the old parrot.
"I shall pull her head off," cried Jack.
"No matter," cried the parrot; "no matter only pull."
Well, Jack did pull, and he actually did pull her head off! nearly tumbling backward himself as he did it; but he saw what the whole thing meant then, for there was another head inside a fairy's head.
Jack flung down the old parrot's head and great beak, for he saw that what he had to do was to clear the fairy of its parrot covering. The poor little creature seemed nearly dead, it was so terribly squeezed in the wires. It had a green gown or robe on, with an ermine collar; and Jack got hold of this dress, stripped the fairy out of the parrot feathers, and dragged her through velvet robe, and crimson girdle, and little yellow shoes. She was very much exhausted, but a kind brown woman took her instantly, and laid her in her bosom. She was a splendid little creature, about half a foot long.
"There's a brave boy!" cried the parrot. Jack glanced round, and saw that not all the parrots were free yet the gipsy was still muttering her spell.
He returned the handkerchief to the parrot, who put it round his own neck, and again Jack pulled. But oh! what a tough old parrot that was, and how Jack tugged before his cunning head would come off! It did, however, at last; and just as a fine fairy was pulled through, leaving his parrot skin and the handkerchief behind him, the gipsy untied her eyes and saw what Jack had done.
"Give me my handkerchief!" she screamed in despair.
"It's in the cage, gipsy," answered Jack; "you can get it yourself. Say your words again."
But the gipsy's spell would only open places where she had confined fairies, and no fairies were in the cage now.
"No, no, no!" she screamed; "too late! Hide me! Oh, good people, hide me!"
But it was indeed too late. The parrots had been wheeling in the air, hundreds and hundreds of them, high above her head; and as she ceased speaking she fell shuddering on the ground, drew her cloak over her face, and down they came, swooping in one immense flock, and settled so thickly all over her that she was completely covered; from her shoes to her head not an atom of her was to be seen.
All the people stood gravely looking on. So did Jack, but he could not see much for the fluttering of the parrots, nor hear anything for their screaming voices; but at last he made one of the cross people hear when he shouted to her: "What are they going to do to the poor gipsy?"
"Make her take her other form," she replied; "and then she cannot hurt us while she stays in our country. She is a fairy, as we have just found out, and all fairies have two forms."
"Oh!" said Jack; but he had no time for more questions.
The screaming, and fighting, and tossing about of little bits of cloth and cotton ceased; a black lump heaved itself up from the ground among the parrots; and as they flew aside an ugly great condor, with a bare neck, spread out its wings and, skimming the ground, sailed slowly away.
"They have pecked her so that she can hardly rise," exclaimed the parrot fairy. "Set me on your shoulder, Jack, and let me see the end of it."
Jack set him there; and his little wife, who had recovered herself, sprang from her friend the brown woman and sat on the other shoulder. He then ran on the tribe of brown people, and mushroom people, and the feather-coated folks running too after the great black bird, who skimmed slowly on before them till she got to the gipsy carts, when out rushed the gipsies, armed with poles, milking-stools, spades and everything they could get hold of to beat back the people and the parrots from hunting their relation, who had folded her tired wings and was skulking under a cart with ruffled feathers and a scowling eye.