It wasn't in the least what she had requested.

She had flapped her little wings as a symbol of desired flight, not merely as a plea for a more gilded cage and an extra allowance of lumps of sugar.

Above all she hadn't complained, not by the quaver of a syllable--so what wound in particular had she shown her fear of receiving?
What wound HAD she received--as to which she had exchanged the least word with them?
If she had ever whined or moped they might have had some reason; but she would be hanged--she conversed with herself in strong language--if she had been, from beginning to end, anything but pliable and mild.

It all came back, in consequence, to some required process of their own, a process operating, quite positively, as a precaution and a policy.

They had got her into the bath and, for consistency with themselves--which was with each other--must keep her there.