Cyril stooped again, busying himself with the other bootlace and
listened for the Psammead's further instructions.

'Go in,' said the Psammead, 'and ask the price of lots of other
things. Then say, "What do you want for that monkey that's lost
its tail--the mangy old thing in the third hutch from the end."
Oh--don't mind MY feelings--call me a mangy monkey--I've tried
hard enough to look like one! I don't think he'll put a high
price on me--I've bitten him eleven times since I came here the
day before yesterday. If he names a bigger price than you can
afford, say you wish you had the money.'

'But you can't give us wishes. I've promised never to have
another wish from you,' said the bewildered Cyril.

'Don't be a silly little idiot,' said the Sand-fairy in trembling
but affectionate tones, 'but find out how much money you've got
between you, and do exactly what I tell you.'

Cyril, pointing a stiff and unmeaning finger at the white rat, so
as to pretend that its charms alone employed his tongue,
explained matters to the others, while the Psammead hunched
itself, and bunched itself, and did its very best to make itself
look uninteresting. Then the four children filed into the shop.

'How much do you want for that white rat?' asked Cyril.

'Eightpence,' was the answer.

'And the guinea-pigs?'