The unicorn was still there; he was now browsing among the tulips. "Here, unicorn," said the man, and he pulled up the lily and gave it to him. The unicorn ate it gravely. With a high heart, because there was a unicorn in his garden, the man went upstairs and roused his wife again. "The unicorn," he said, "ate a lily." His wife sat up in bed and looked at him, coldly. "You are a booby," she said, "and I am going to have you put in a booby-hatch." The man, who had never liked the word "booby" and "booby-hatch," and who liked them even less in a shiny morning when there was a unicorn in the garden, thought for a moment.