It wanted to know why there was no altar, no fire, no incense, and became so excited and fretful and tiresome that four at least of the party of five wished deeply that it had been left at home.
What happened next was entirely the fault of the Phoenix.

It was not in the least the fault of the theatre people, and no one could ever understand afterwards how it did happen.

No one, that is, except the guilty bird itself and the four children.

The Phoenix was balancing itself on the gilt back of the chair, swaying backwards and forwards and up and down, as you may see your own domestic parrot do.

I mean the grey one with the red tail.