But he was still tin.

He was a Tin Owl, with tin legs and beak and eyes and feathers.

When he flew to the back of a chair and perched upon it, his tin feathers rattled against one another with a tinny clatter.

The Giantess seemed much amused by the Tin Owl's appearance, for her laugh was big and jolly.
"You're not liable to get lost," said she, "for your wings and feathers will make a racket wherever you go.

And, on my word, a Tin Owl is so rare and pretty that it is an improvement on the ordinary bird.