So a whole year passed . The Emperor , the Court , and all the Chinese knew every note of the artificial bird 's song by heart . But they liked it all the better for this ; they could even sing with it , and they did . The street boys sang ` Tra-la-la-la-la , and the Emperor sang too sometimes . It was indeed delightful . But one evening , when the artificial bird was singing its best , and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it , something in the bird went crack . Something snapped ! Whir-r-r ! all the wheels ran down and then the music ceased . The Emperor sprang up , and had his physician summoned , but what could HE do ! Then the clockmaker came , and , after a great deal of talking and examining , he put the bird somewhat in order , but he said that it must be very seldom used as the works were nearly worn out , and it was impossible to put in new ones . Here was a calamity ! Only once a year was the artificial bird allowed to sing , and even that was almost too much for it . But then the bandmaster made a little speech full of hard words , saying that it was just as good as before . And so , of course , it WAS just as good as before . So five years passed , and then a great sorrow came to the nation . The Chinese look upon their Emperor as everything , and now he was ill , and not likely to live it was said . Already a new Emperor had been chosen , and the people stood outside in the street and asked the First Lord how the old Emperor was . ` P ! ' said he , and shook his head .
Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his splendid great bed ; the whole Court believed him dead , and one XXXXX the other left him to pay their respects to the new Emperor .
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