`` And what will become of your wife ? '' `` Oh ! she is a very plain stupid creature , and that 's the truth ; and thinks about nothing but eggs . If she chooses to come , why she may ; and if not , why I go without her ; -- and here I go . '' And , as he spoke , he turned quite pale , and then quite white . `` Why , you 're ill ! '' said Tom . But he did not answer . `` You 're dead , '' said Tom , looking at him as he stood on his knee as white as a ghost . `` No , I ai n't ! '' answered a little squeaking voice over his head . `` This is me up here , in my ball-dress ; and that 's my skin . Ha , ha ! you could not do such a trick as that ! '' And no more Tom could , nor Houdin , nor Robin , nor Frikell , nor all the conjurors in the world . For the little rogue had jumped clean out of his own skin , and left it standing on Tom 's knee , eyes , wings , legs , tail , exactly as if it had been alive . `` Ha , ha ! '' he said , and he jerked and skipped up and down , never stopping an instant , just as if he had St. Vitus 's dance . `` Ai n't I a pretty fellow now ? '' And so he was ; for his body was white , and his tail orange , and his eyes all the colours of a peacock 's tail .
And what was the oddest of all , the whisks at the end of his XXXXX had grown five times as long as they were before .
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