'Why little cuckoo! what's the matter?' cried bhagtu the shopkeeper.'You are generally the pertest of birds, and to-day you as dull as ditchwater!'
'Don't ask me!' snivelled the cuckoo; 'it is suchsuch horrible pain!'
However when Bhagtu persisted the cuckoo, wiping its one eye on its wing, replied
'The ugly hen painted.
By jealousy tained,
The pretty hen dyed.
Lamenting his bride.
The cock, bald and bare,
Sobs loud in despair;
The pipal tree grieves
By shedding its leaves;
The buffalo mourns
By casting her horns;
The stream, weeping fast,
Grows briny at last;
The cuckoo with sighs
Blinds one of its eyes!'
'Bless my heart!' cried Bhagtu, 'but that is simply the most heartrending tale I ever heard in my life!I must really mourn likewise!'Whereupon he wept, and wailed, and beat his breast, until he went completely out of his mind; and when the Queen's maidservant came to buy of him, he gave her pepper instead of turmeric, onion instead of garlic, and wheat instead of pulse.
'Dear me, friend Bhagtu!' quoth the maid-
