Starving And Sorry

It can't be far away, says Katherine.

I'll find it, says Prong.

She goes back the way she and Terence have come.

From the table, along the carpet, to the handbag on the armchair.

The box lies beside the handbag, with its lid off.

And the glass leaf is lying inside.

This job is easy, thinks Prong. It's knowing where Terence has left things.

She goes back to the table.

With any luck they won't have eaten all the passionfruit seeds yet.

Did you find it? asks Terence.

It's in the box, says Prong. You must have put it back after.

That was sensible, Terence, says Katherine.

Yes, says Terence. 

Prong learns another thing. A parrot gets no glory.

Look, Prong, says Terence. Want to try my tomato sauce?

No thanks, says Prong. It looks like a love heart with legs.

And a beak, says Terence. I did it.

Perhaps Prong would like to try some pavlova, says Minnie.

Just a few passionfruit seeds, thanks, says Prong.

Of course, says Minnie, picking a few of them off the pavlova.

Prong tries them. Crack. Crunch. Splinter. Yum.

Anyone for seconds? asks Minnie.

I shouldn't, says Gaius.

Go on, says Margaret.

I shall allow myself to be persuaded, says Gaius.

He has seconds.

Are you eating that sauce, Terence? asks Margaret.

My art work! says Terence.

You should eat it, says Prong.

There you see, says Gaius. Good advice from a parrot.

Prong looks proud.

Don't get too proud, says Terence. Parrots don't tell kids to eat things.

It was a fair enough suggestion, says Prong. You never know when you'll be starving and sorry.

Terence is taken aback.

Starving and sorry?

So far he has never been that.