"We will tell her the first part," said
the mother; "never mind the second; we
need not spoil our morning."

"Well, my dear, the Sultan of the East
had a beautiful Sultana, and the Sultana
had a favourite bird, which was a paroquet.
And the paroquet would perch on the
shoulder of the Sultana, making so lovely
a picture, that the Sultan's delight knew
no bounds. The bird's brilliant plumage
mingled with the lady's raven hair. The
Sultan had the eye of a painter. This
living picture caused him rapture.

"But the Sultana was haughty and
wilful, and she did not choose to be kept
sitting with a bird on her shoulder. Her
love for the creature changed to hate. She
secretly gave it poison, and it died.

"The Sultan was so afflicted at the death
of the poor bird, that his temper became
intolerable, and the Sultana had good cause
to repent her cruel deed. She bethought
her of how she might repair the loss. She
employed a skilful artist to design for her
a kerchief, from which should shine forth
all the colours of the plumage of the bird;
these to be enhanced by a mixture of gold
and silver, and jewels to be sewn upon the
fringe. She wore the kerchief. The Sultan
was enchanted by her sympathy and
affection, and his temper became at once less
unbearable. The harmony and brilliance
of the colours in the web were more
splendid than the presence of the bird.
The Sultana was charmed with her success,
and henceforth never appeared before the
Sultan without taking care to have the
kerchief on her shoulders.

"Things went on very well for a time
after this, till one of the Sultana's women
began to covet the curious garment of
which her mistress was so fond. Her
desire became strong, and the kerchief
disappeared.

"Then there arose a storm in the palace.
The Sultana flew to the Sultan. The Sultan
pronounced sentence of death on that
person with whom the kerchief should be
found. A search commenced, and the
terrified thief flew from hiding-place to
hiding-place with her prize. A traveller with
sacks upon a mule came tramping past
the gates of the palace. The woman ran
to meet him, and thrust the dangerous
kerchief into one of his sacks. The man
thought her mad, and passed on,
congratulating himself upon his luck. 'I shall sell
it,' he thought, 'for a good price.' But a
gossip on the road soon enlightened him as
to the story of the kerchief. 'I shall be
caught,' he now said, 'and put to death as
the thief!' Arrived at the nearest town,
he rushed into the first door he saw open.
A young girl was coming out. The traveller
threw the kerchief over her face, and
ran away. When the girl drew the kerchief
from her eyes, he had disappeared.

"Now this young girl had not yet heard
the story of the kerchief, and was delighted
with the present which the strange man
had brought her. She put the kerchief on
her head, and looked out of the window.
Very soon there arose a tumult in the
street. Here, then, was the thief, and she
was doomed. It was useless for her to
tell how she came by the kerchief. She
had been seen with the Sultana's precious
garment on her head, and she must die.

"She had friends, however, and in terror
and with difficulty she escaped out of the
country. In the course of a few years she
made her way to France. She was an
intelligent young woman, and comely, though
copper-coloured, and with a ring in her
nose. That ring used to awe me very
much; for she was my nurse. My mother
happened to meet with her while travelling
through France, and engaged her as an
attendant on her children. Her strange
story was a delight to my childhood. A sight
of the Sultana's kerchief was her reward
for my good conduct. She loved me very
dearly, as I loved her. The kerchief was
her one curiosity and treasure, and she
gave it to me when I – parted from my
family," said the mother, sadly. "She
gave it with her blessing, and foretold that
it would bring me good fortune. I could
not part with it, my dear, even after all
these years. But Barry has copied it for
you. And I know by the touch that he
has copied it right well."

When Witch went home that day, stepping
on tiptoe with happiness, she perceived
that all the dingy shutters were
shut in the next house; which gave her a
great shock. She had been humming a
song of Barry's, to which she had set a
little tune of her own; but she stopped
short and her voice was heard no more.
"This must be death," thought little Witch.
"Nothing else can it be!"

"I am sure I don't wonder at it," said
Barbara. "I expected that some of them
must have been starved long ago."

Alice now remembered that she had
heard a great noise going on next door
during the night, and Kathleen secretly
determined to have a little private
conversation with the charwoman. This she
ingeniously arranged, and the truth was
ascertained. The Brother Scarecrow was