On his head the Peacock carries a crest of twenty-four beautiful feathers, and behind him a train more gorgeous than that of any princess. When he is pleased he lifts up his train and spreads it out like a fan—a fan of such beautiful colours and so delightful a pattern that it could not be made for a king’s ransom. In the moulting season these feathers drop off, and then the Peacock is so much ashamed of himself that he hides away until they grow again. His wife is not so richly dressed; indeed, the poor thing is quite a dowdy person.

The Peacock