Then he reflected that it was silly to be angry with a person who was not very well.
'Listen, Moti,' he said, 'that was indeed a fault.

I should have walked to the north.

But I will not eat your cake--let us give it to the red and gold fishes in the fountain.' 'Some of it,' said Moti, appeased, 'and some to my new little monkey--my talking monkey.' The fishes darted up for the crumbs greedily, but the monkey was not as grateful for her share as she ought to have been.

She took it, smelt it, wiped it vigorously on the ground, smelt it again, and chattered angrily at the boys; then she went nimbly hand over hand to the very top of the banyan-tree she lived in; and then she deliberately broke it into little pieces and pelted the givers with them.
'She is not hungry to-day,' said Moti.

'Let us take out the falcons.' Next morning the Maharajah was very much annoyed by the intelligence that all the little red-spotted fishes were floating flabby and flat and dead among the lily pads of the fountain--there were few things except Moti that the Maharajah loved better than his little red-spotted fishes.