{W-4-D}

Some of the people pass you by on their way off the bus and seem to take notice of the big pink cockatoo trying to hide at your feet.

“It won’t take him long to find you,” an unfamiliar voice says. You look over and see a thin, elderly man sitting across the aisle from you. His dark face is framed by a halo of white hair and a wispy white beard on his chin. He is dressed in plain, somewhat travel-worn clothes.

“Who says we’re hiding?” you say, nervously.

“Of course,” he answers, “and I’m not over a hundred years old!”

“You are?” you ask, but he only smiles. The twinkle in his eye makes you wonder if he’s joking with you.

“If you want, I can hide your friend in here,” he says, while opening the top of a small cardboard box. “It may be a little cramped, but he will fit.”

“What do you say, Winston,” you say, looking down at him, but apparently he is so scared that all he lets out is a low coo.

You say:

“He’s right. You’ll be safely out of sight in the box, Winston.”{W-5-C}

“I’m not going to put Winston into some old box. He’ll be trapped!”{W-5-D}