ales. Yes, the lackeys and chambermaids announced
that they were pleased; which means a great deal, for they are the most
difficult people of all to satisfy. In short, the Nightingale was a real
success.

She had to stay at Court now; she had her own cage, and permission to
walk out twice in the day and once at night.

She was given twelve servants, who each held a silken string which was
fastened round her leg. There was little pleasure in flying about like
this.

The whole town was talking about the wonderful bird, and when two people
met each other one would say 'Nightin,' and the other 'Gale,' and then
they would both sigh and understand one another.

Yes, and eleven grocer's children were called after her, but not one of
them could sing a note.

One day the Emperor received a large parcel on which was written 'The
Nightingale.'

'Here is another new book about our famous bird!' said the Emperor.

But it was not a book, but a little mechanical toy, which lay in a
box--an artificial nightingale which was like the real one, only that it
was set all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When it was wound
up, it could sing the piece the real bird sang, and moved its tail
up and down, and glittered with silver and gold. Round its neck was a
little collar on which was written, 'The Nightingale of the Emperor of
Japan is nothing compared to that of the Emperor of China.'

'This is magnificent!' they all said, and the man who had brought
the clockwork bird received on the spot the title of 'Bringer of the
Imperial First Nightingale.'

'Now they must sing together; what a duet we shall have!'

And so they sang together, but their voices did not blend, for the real
Nightingale sang in her way and the clockwork bird sang waltzes.

'It is not its fault!' said the bandmaster; 'it keeps very good time and
is quite after my style!'

Then the artificial bird had to sing alone. It gave just as much
pleasure as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at;
it sparkled like bracelets and necklaces. Three-and-thirty times it sang
the same piece without being tired. People would like to have heard it
again, but the Emperor thought that the living Nightingale should sing
now--but where was she? No one had noticed that she had flown out of the
open window away to her green woods.

'What SHALL we do!' said the Emperor.

And all the Court scolded, and said that the Nightingale was very
ungrateful. 'But we