VI

So that night, when the moon was shining through the palm-trees and all the King’s men were asleep, the parrot slipped out through the bars of the prison and flew across to the palace. The pantry window had been broken by a tennis ball the week before; and Polynesia popped in through the hole in the glass.

She heard Prince Bumpo snoring in his bedroom at the back of the palace. Then she tiptoed up the stairs till she came to the King’s bedroom. She opened the door gently and peeped in.

The Queen was away at a dance that night at her cousin’s; but the King was in bed fast asleep.

Polynesia crept in, very softly, and got under the bed.

Then she coughed⁠—just the way Doctor Dolittle used to cough. Polynesia could mimic anyone.

The King opened his eyes and said sleepily: “Is that you, Ermintrude?” (He thought it was the Queen come back from the dance.)

Then the parrot coughed again⁠—loud, like a man. And the King sat up, wide awake, and said, “Who’s that?”

“I am Doctor Dolittle,” said the parrot⁠—just the way the Doctor would have said it.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” cried the King. “How dare you get out of prison! Where are you?⁠—I don’t see you.”

But the parrot just laughed⁠—a long, deep, jolly laugh, like the Doctor’s.

“Stop laughing and come here at once, so I can see you,” said the King.

“Foolish King!” answered Polynesia. “Have you forgotten that you are talking to John Dolittle, M.D. ⁠—the most wonderful man on earth? Of