My aunt had one that lived twelve years in a cage.
It would peck her cheek, and pretend to kiss her, and do all sorts of sweet little tricks.

His cage door stood open, and he went in and out as it suited him, but he never thought of flying away.

However, it is only natural to suppose that hopping about in a narrow space would be dreadful to a bird accustomed to spreading its wings and soaring up through the sky whenever and wherever it pleased." Miss Kathy looked at the clock.

She saw it was time for her to go back into the store, then gathered up her work and went into the front room.
When Polly was left to herself I could see she was thinking very hard.
The rocking-chair kept moving faster, and her forehead was drawn into a little pucker between her eyes.

She sighed too, occasionally, as if she were sad.
I noticed that Miss Katharine from her post behind the counter looked in at the child from time to time, and I heard her say half-aloud: "If the fashionable women of the land had hearts as merciful and consciences as tender as that dear little Polly's, the slaughter of the birds would soon come to an end." The birch chair finally ceased to rock.