Mornings are usually the quietest time of the day in the Herb Garden. In fact, apart from the usual grunts and groans and snorts as one by one the various inhabitants come to life, not to mention an occasional sleepy hoot from Sage, the only sound to disturb the peace is that of Mr Onion’s school bell summoning the Chives to their lessons.

Not that that bothers Parsley, because he doesn’t have to go to school.

In a way, he rather likes hearing it, for the simple reason that he knows he can go back to sleep again as soon as it stops.

He said as much to himself one morning. ‘Today,’ he said, ‘seems like a nice, quiet, restful day. As soon as Mr Onion stops ringing his bell I shall turn over and –’ He gave an enormous yawn – ‘do nothing!’

‘Thank you,’ he said as the bell stopped ringing.

He stretched himself out, closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to go to school today,’ he sighed dreamily. ‘I don’t feel at all scholastic today.’

The words were hardly out of Parsley’s mouth before he heard a pounding of feet and he jumped up in alarm.

‘It’s either an earthquake,’ he cried – for with his ear to the ground the pounding had sounded extra loud – ‘or it’s a herd of elephants.’

But it turned out to be neither of those things.

A moment later all was revealed as a small figure came tearing round the corner and skidded to a halt beside him.

‘I might have known,’ said Parsley. ‘Dill!’

He stepped back a pace in order to take in the sight, for it was no ordinary Dill who stood before him, tousled and unkempt after a night’s sleep, but a highly polished and neatly brushed Dill. A Dill moreover who was wearing a cap and carrying a leather bag over one shoulder.

‘Have you washed?’ asked Parsley suspiciously.

Dill nodded frantically as he tried to get his breath back.

‘Wonders will never cease!’ exclaimed Parsley. He padded round Dill and examined him from the other side. ‘And what’s that thing you’re carrying? It looks like a school satchel!’

Dill took an enormous deep breath. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ he gasped. ‘Haven’t you heard? Mr Onion’s holding his exams today and he’s offering a prize to the one with the best answers. I’ve put both our names down for it!’

‘You’ve what?’ cried Parsley. He gave a groan. ‘I knew it was too peaceful to last.’

Dill gave him a tug. ‘Come on,’ he cried. ‘The bell’s stopped ringing. We don’t want to start off with a Late Slip. How many Ks in “scholar”? If I win we’ll go shares if you like!’

Parsley gazed up at the sky as Dill dashed on ahead. ‘Hark at him!’ he exclaimed. ‘If he wins. If he doesn’t know how many Ks there are in “scholar” he won’t stand a dog’s chance!’

But all the same Parsley hurried after his friend and soon they were joining the throng of Chives making their way into the classroom.

They were only just in the nick of time for a moment later Mr Onion entered, carrying his stick and a large pile of papers.

As he mounted the platform the class stood to attention and awaited his word of command.

‘Right,’ he called. ‘Chiiiives, sitting for exams, by numbers … begin.

‘One, pause … two, pause … three.’

There was a clattering of seats and desk lids as the Chives, Parsley and Dill settled themselves down.

‘Now, Chives,’ continued Mr Onion as he paced up and down in front of the chalkboard, ‘we are honoured today by the presence of Messrs Parsley and Dill.’

‘Messrs?’ repeated Dill out of the side of his mouth. ‘I like that! You could eat bones off the floor of my kennel.’

‘You often do,’ agreed Parsley.

Mr Onion thumped the floor with his stick. ‘Quiet in the ranks there!’ he shouted.

‘Shh!’ whispered Parsley. ‘We don’t want to be kept in after school.’

‘Messrs Parsley and Dill,’ went on Mr Onion, giving the two in question a hard stare, ‘’ave kindly consented to take part in these ’ere exams, scholars for the use of, for which I am offering a very valuable prize.’

Dill jumped to his feet. ‘I think school is the finest thing there is, Mr Onion,’ he called. ‘May we have some sums, please?’

‘Crawler!’ hissed Parsley. ‘Hard ones!’ he added in a loud voice, not wishing to be outdone. ‘The harder the better!’

‘Hark who’s talking now!’ whispered Dill.

‘Good lads!’ said Mr Onion. ‘That’s what I like to ’ear. Stand up anyone who disagrees.’

There was a pounding of feet as all the Chives jumped up.

Mr Onion glared at them. ‘You ’orrible lot!’ he cried. ‘Sit down at once. Just for that I shall start with a very difficult question indeed.’ He turned to the board on which he’d already drawn a kind of rough circle with his chalk. ‘Now, what do we ’ave ’ere?’

‘A dirty chalkboard?’ asked Dill, jumping to his feet again. ‘I’ll clean it for you if you like. Where’s the duster?’

‘A dirty chalkboard!’ bellowed Mr Onion. ‘I’ll ’ave you know I ’ad to dig the potato what served as a model for this drawing afore you was up this morning. Anyone else?’

Parsley raised a paw. ‘A beautifully drawn picture of an early potato?’ he asked hopefully.

Mr Onion relaxed. ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘Good lad. I’m glad someone’s paying attention. Now, if I was to take that potato off the board – which I can’t on account of the fact that it’s only drawn on – but if I did and I cut it in half, then I cut the two halves in half again, and then I cut those pieces in half, what would I ’ave?’

‘Potato salad?’ asked Dill hopefully.

Mr Onion gave Dill a dark glance. ‘Potato salad!’ he snorted. ‘Anyone else? Parsley?’

Parsley scratched his head. ‘I … er … I ought to know,’ he said, thinking hard. ‘Er … potatoes … two from four is … er … carry one … um … It’s a long time since I ate …’

‘Eight is the correct answer!’ barked Mr Onion. ‘Good. That’s one mark to Parsley.’

‘Would you believe it?’ murmured Dill. ‘Of all the luck!’

‘We will now turn to English Literature, bards for the use of,’ continued Mr Onion. ‘That is,’ he added, glaring at Dill, ‘if certain dogs ’ave finished chattering. Now, if Shakespeare were alive today, what would he be famous for?’

‘His age?’ asked Dill.

‘Wrong!’ bellowed Mr Onion. ‘Parsley?’

‘Er … Shakespeare,’ said Parsley. ‘Er … I know the name … but it would be on the tip of my tongue if I had a big enough tongue … I’m just trying to place …’

‘Correct!’ barked Mr Onion. ‘His plays of course. Another mark for Parsley, making two in all.’

‘Now who’s crawling?’ asked Dill.

‘Dogs who live in glass kennels shouldn’t throw bones,’ said Parsley primly.

‘We come now,’ bawled Mr Onion, ‘to the subject of Natural ’Istory, birds and bees for the use of. Can anyone tell me what grows on all trees?’

Silence reigned in the classroom for a moment or two.

‘Dill?’ asked Mr Onion as Dill put up a paw to scratch his head.

‘I don’t know,’ said Dill sadly.

‘Bark!’ said Mr Onion. ‘Bark!’

‘Wuff! Wuff!’ said Dill excitedly.

Parsley shook his head. ‘Wuff! Wuff!’ he said. ‘Really!’

‘Well, it could have been right,’ replied Dill. ‘There’s many a true word spoken in wuffs.’

‘There are other meanings to the word “bark”,’ said Parsley.

‘Good!’ called out Mr Onion. ‘Bark is the correct answer.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘We’ve a good lad ’ere … That gives Parsley another mark and brings us to the end of the exams, pupils for the use of, making him the winner by a clear margin of three to nothing.’

‘Congratulations!’ said Dill, trying to make himself heard over the mountains of applause. ‘I wonder when we get our prize? May I eat my share now?’

‘Our prize?’ repeated Parsley. ‘You haven’t answered a single question.’

‘I did offer to go shares if I won it,’ said Dill. ‘Fair’s fair.’

‘The prize,’ shouted Mr Onion, holding up his hand for quiet. ‘The prize for the best exam result, which I now have pleasure in awarding to Parsley the lion, is a voucher, scholars for the use of, entitling the holder to a day off from school.’

Parsley stared at the piece of paper Mr Onion had given him. ‘A day off from school?’ he repeated as he read the words. ‘But I don’t even go to school!’

‘You’d better start soon,’ said Dill. ‘Otherwise it won’t be worth having. It’s nearly the end of term.’

‘Dogs!’ said Parsley bitterly as they made their way home. ‘“Exams”, “Go shares on the prize,” he said!’

‘We all have our wuff days,’ panted Dill. ‘Don’t forget to be up early tomorrow … You’ve got a day off.’

‘We have a half day off each,’ said Parsley. ‘We are going shares, remember?’

Dill stood to one side. ‘Bags you go first, then,’ he said. ‘I could do with a lie-in.’

‘Bags I say goodnight,’ said Parsley disgustedly. ‘I’m going back to bed!’