“Think it into something?” said Penelope. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I’ll have to show you,” said Parrot. “Here, let’s go closer.” They walked up to the Mooncalf herd. The strange animals lifted their heads and gazed at them in the friendliest fashion. The leader of the herd was larger than the others and wore a large gold bell around its neck, marked “Leader.”
“Good morning,” said Parrot.
The leader gazed at them and then let out a prolonged “MOOooo” of greeting.
“Not very good conversationalists,” whispered Parrot into Penelope’s ear. “Very restricted vocabulary.”
The leading Mooncalf continued to gaze at them soulfully. “Now, old girl,” said Parrot. “We want a couple of sheets of jelly. Do you think you can provide them without too much strain?”
The leader solemnly nodded her head. Then she turned to the herd and uttered a prolonged, quavering “MOOooo.” The herd immediately formed a circle, nose to tail, and the leader took up her position in the center. Then the leader started to sing. She shook her head to and fro so that her bell clanged discordantly, and cried “MOOoooooo, MOOooooo, MOOooooo.” As she did so, the whole herd started to slide round in a circle and say very rapidly and in chorus, “Moo-moo-moo, moo-moo- moo, moo-moo-moo.” The resulting noise was loud and dismal in the extreme. As the herd slid round and round, every other Mooncalf left a trail of what looked like jade green liquid glue, and the next Mooncalf steam-rollered it into a thin, flat, transparent sheet.
“All right, all right, that’s enough, that's enough,” Parrot shouted, to make himself heard above the chorus of “Moos.” The Mooncalves, looking somewhat surprised, came to a halt, and their mooing died away. Lying on the grass were some twenty sheets of what looked like very thin, brittle green glass.
“They never could count,” said Parrot, in exasperation. “Still, never mind, it’ll come in useful.”
Picking up one of the sheets, Penelope found it was as light as a cobweb and easily bent.
“Why, it’s a little like a sort of plastic,” she said.
“Better than plastic,” said Parrot, “because as soon as you’ve finished with it you just think it into oblivion, so there’s none of it left around mucking up the scenery.”
“What do you mean, ‘think it into oblivion’?” asked Peter.
“Well, we want only two sheets,” said Parrot. “So I’ll get rid of the rest. Watch.”
The children watched, fascinated, as Parrot walked from sheet to sheet of the jelly, glared at it in intense concentration, and said, “Disappear.”
Each sheet immediately rolled itself up into a tube and then got smaller and smaller until, with a noise like the bursting of a very tiny balloon, it disappeared.
“Incredible,” said Simon.
“So you simply tell them what to do?” asked Peter.
“Yes,” said Parrot, mopping his brow with his wing. “It requires a lot of concentration, though. Then, of course, you have to think them into anything you want—anything inanimate, that is. Watch.”
He went up to one of the two remaining sheets of Mooncalf jelly and held out his wing. “Give me two pieces of you, eighteen inches by sixteen,” he said, and the sheet obligingly tore off two pieces of itself exactly that size.
Parrot flew onto Penelope’s shoulder. “Now,” he said, “stand still while I think them into something.”
“What are you going to think them into?” asked Simon.
“Buckets,” said Parrot, glaring at the pieces of jelly.
The children watched the jelly turn from pale green to dark green. Then it suddenly gave a wriggle, and it wriggled and writhed, twisted and jumped, curling itself into all sorts of contortions. Then it gave an extra-complicated wriggle, there was a faint pop, and there were two beautiful small buckets standing in front of them.
“I say, that’s wonderful,” said Peter, much impressed.
“No wonder you said it was so useful,” observed Simon.
“It’s the most useful thing I’ve ever seen,” said Penelope with conviction.
Parrot proceeded to fill one bucket with cold milk and one with cream from the shell of one of the Mooncalves. Then they thanked the herd, which said “Moo” politely and in unison, and taking the sheets of jelly they made their way back to the river and their belongings.
“So there you are,” said Dulcibelle, when they got back. “Took your time, didn’t you? I was just about to send out a search party.”
“How could you send out a search party, you exaggerating, egocentric spider?” asked Parrot.
“We’ve brought you some cream,” said Penelope hastily. “Cream?” said Dulcibelle. “Mow nice. No greenfly to go with it, I suppose?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Penelope gravely.
“Oh well,” said Dulcibelle. “It’s to be expected, I suppose.” Then Parrot, with much concentration, thought the jelly into a splendid new dinghy. Filling it full of their equipment and Parrot’s cage, they launched it onto the placid river.
“Yo ho ho, and all that sort of rot,” said Parrot gaily. “Not long now and we’ll come to the Unicorn Meadows. Then it’s only a half hour’s climb to the Crystal Caves.”
“I’m longing to see the Unicorns,” said Penelope, trailing her hands in the golden, glittering waters, as Peter and Simon pad- died them along at a good pace.
“Very decorative animals, I must admit,” said Parrot judiciously. “But very, very standoffish, if you know what I mean, like to keep themselves to themselves. Snobs! Always saying, ‘Well, it’s none of our business’—when of course it is, because, after all, everything’s everyone’s business in Mythologia. I mean, we’ve all got to believe in each other, otherwise we’ll all vanish, won’t we?”
“Perhaps they’re just timid,” suggested Penelope.
“Timid? Not them,” said Parrot. “They’ll take on anything. No, they’re just lazy. When I went to see them about this Cockatrice business, you know what they said? It made me mad, it did. They said: ‘What business is it of ours? It’s up to you and H.H. to control the unruly elements among us.’ Ha! I’ll give them unruly elements.”
“The forest is ending,” said Peter. “It looks as though we’re coming to open country.”
“Just let me go and reconnoiter,” said Parrot.
Taking his telescope, he flew off and was gone a few minutes. Then he returned to the dinghy, circled it with great skill, and landed on Penelope’s shoulder. “All clear,” he said, “couldn’t see a thing. Make for that little cove up ahead and we’ll land there.”
They landed in the cove, deflated the dinghy, and packed it up. Then they set off over the rolling meadowland, dotted with great clumps of blue bushes covered in magenta red flowers the size of sunflowers. About two miles away they could see a range of forested hills, and it was there that the Crystal Caves lay, according to Parrot.
Although the sun had not risen any higher above the horizon, it had become much warmer, and the boys found it was hot work lugging Parrot’s home with all its furniture plus their supplies and the dinghy. When they got to what Parrot said was the halfway mark, he told them they could have a rest. Thankfully they put down their loads, lay down in the shade of one of the big blue bushes, and had a much-needed drink of the Mooncalf milk.
“I’ll just walk up to the brow of the hill and make sure it’s all clear ahead,” said Penelope. “You all have a good rest.”
“Well, be careful,” said Peter.
“Oh, it’s open country round here, I don’t think she’d come to any harm,” said Parrot, dozing on top of his cage.
“Well, I shan’t go far, anyway,” said Penelope.
“Let us know what you see,” said Simon lazily, half asleep, “and if you see any Cockatrices, don’t forget to run.”