Like most lions, Parsley leads a fairly busy life. Although he enjoys a good lie-in in the mornings, when he does get up there’s usually plenty to do. There is the weather to test, and trails to be followed before they have time to wear off – all manner of things, in fact.

On the other hand, like most lions and a good many people, even Parsley finds there are days when it’s hard to think of something to do, and it so happened that when he woke the morning after the exams it was one of those days.

He came out of his den. Then he had a good stretch, sniffed the morning air, peered under a few bushes and … just sat.

Really, he could think of absolutely nothing else to do.

In the end he decided to consult his book under a section called ‘A thousand and one things a lion can do on a wet day’.

Although there wasn’t a cloud in the sky he felt sure it would suggest something. And, sure enough, it did. It said: ‘If you are a lion at a loose end, why not try advertising for work in the agony column of a newspaper?’

Parsley had never put any sort of advertisement in the agony column of a newspaper before, let alone one asking for work.

On the other hand, doing something is always better than doing nothing at all, so he sat down to write one out.

It took him a long time but at last it was ready and he sent it off post-haste to The Herbs Review, which as luck would have it was due out that very day.

Unlike most newspapers, which are made up of many sheets, The Herbs Review only brought out one page at a time. It was published by Signor Solidago, the Italian music master, who used an old set with rubber type, and it took him so long to set up, by the time he’d finished one edition it was time to start on the next.

But luckily for Parsley there was still some room left at the bottom and so his advertisement arrived in time.

Quite a crowd gathered round Signor Solidago as he held the paper up for everyone to see. Aunt Mint, Constable Knapweed, Bayleaf, Dill – all jostled for a closer look.

‘“Young lion at a loose end,”’ read Aunt Mint. ‘“Requires … work!” Good gracious!’

Constable Knapweed peered over her shoulder. ‘“Go anywhere …”’ he added.

‘“Do anything …”’ broke in Bayleaf.

‘Fancy being able to advertise for work!’ exclaimed Dill in amazement. ‘What will they think of next? I mean … you can want bones or a good yawn … but work!’ In order to prove his point Dill opened his mouth, gave a loud yawn, then closed his eyes and a moment later fell fast asleep.

‘“Apply at path near gate for details,”’ said Constable Knapweed. He looked up from the paper. ‘Where’s my bucket? I’ll soon find him a job of work to do.’ And he hurried off to look for Parsley.

Constable Knapweed hadn’t far to go for Parsley was as good as his word. He was waiting by the gate all agog for something to happen.

Constable Knapweed approached Parsley with his hands behind his back and circled him several times, apparently taking an unusual amount of interest in his tail.

‘It occurs to me, young feller-me-lion,’ he said at last, ‘that a lad like yourself, with a fine tail and all, is wasted sitting around all day, squandering your time so to speak.’

Parsley put on a slightly superior expression. ‘He’s quite right, of course,’ he said, addressing the empty air. He stood up and peered round at himself. ‘I mean to say …’ He waved his tail to and fro a couple of times. ‘Just look at it …’

‘Hanging there,’ continued Constable Knapweed. ‘Doing nothing, as you might say. It’d make a fine mop it would. A mobile mop!’

He took his hands from behind his back and placed a large galvanised bucket over Parsley’s tail. ‘You can dip it in this ’ere bucket,’ he said triumphantly. ‘And then go around mopping things up. There’s always things what need mopping up in the Herb Garden. You won’t be at a loss for something to do.’

Parsley stared after Constable Knapweed as he disappeared from view.

‘My tail!’ he exclaimed, hardly able to believe his ears. ‘A mop! Hanging there … doing nothing, as you might say? He might say it! A mobile mop indeed! It’s coming to something.’

But Parsley had hardly got over his feeling of indignation, let alone removed the bucket from his tail, when Mr Bayleaf appeared on the scene.

‘Ah, there ’e be, Parsley,’ he exclaimed. ‘I ’ear you’ve turned over a new leaf.’

‘Well,’ said Parsley cautiously, ‘I suppose you could put it that way if you like.’

‘In that case,’ said Bayleaf, ‘I’ve been wondering if you’d like to turn over another one.’

‘Would I like to …’ Parsley stared at the bucket. ‘Anything’s better than this!’

‘Good,’ said Bayleaf, producing a broom from behind his back, ‘’cause I ’as plenty of leaves you can turn over. They b’ain’t be new, but the garden’s full of ’em.

‘If I ties this ’ere broom on your tail … like so … you can turn ’em over as you go along. You’ll ’ave a great pile of ’em in no time at all.’

While he was talking, Bayleaf busied himself tying the broom on to Parsley’s tail with a piece of raffia.

‘“As ye mops,”’ he quoted, ‘“so ye shall sweep.” Bayleaf, chapter seven, verse six. Tee! Hee! Hee!’

‘Well!’ exclaimed Parsley as Bayleaf went on his way, chuckling to himself. ‘I’ll be … Whatever next? Taking advantage of a lion, that’s what it is. I’ve a good mind to …’

Parsley didn’t really know what he had a good mind to do. Which was just as well, for at that moment Aunt Mint came into view.

‘Ah, Parsley,’ she called out. ‘There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Now, don’t move. Stay just as you are!’

Parsley froze in his tracks.

‘I have a little surprise for you,’ continued Aunt Mint. ‘I read your advertisement in the paper and I know just the thing to pass the time.’

‘At last!’ said Parsley as Aunt Mint disappeared behind him. ‘I knew if I waited long enough everything would turn out all right. It’s about time too! Using my tail as a mop! Hanging buckets on it! Tying brooms to it!’

‘You can look round now, Parsley,’ called Aunt Mint.

Parsley gazed round hopefully at his tail and then nearly fell over backwards with surprise. Aunt Mint had tied a skein of wool to it! She’d also tucked several more into his mane.

‘I knew you’d be surprised,’ said Aunt Mint. ‘Now, don’t go away. I’m going to fetch some more wool. Then when I get back you can help me wind it into nice, round balls ready for my knitting. I’ve hundreds and hundreds to do. It’ll keep you busy for weeks and weeks.’

‘Would you believe it?’ wailed Parsley as Aunt Mint hurried on her way. He raised his eyes to the heavens above. ‘Would you believe it! All I wanted was something to pass the time!’

‘Hullo!’ called Dill as he raced on and began running round and round Parsley in circles. ‘Going somewhere? You look as if you’re all dressed up for something.’

‘Grr,’ said Parsley. ‘It’s all very well for you. You’re not at a loose end.’

Dill skipped to a stop. ‘Not at a loose end?’ he repeated. ‘Not at a loose end?’ He blinked several times in order to make sure he’d heard all right. ‘Why, my end is so loose sometimes I can’t even catch it.’

He ran round in circles a few more times. ‘That’s what I do when I’m at a loose end,’ he panted. ‘I run round and round in a circle and see where I end up.’ He opened his eyes. ‘Where are you?’ he cried anxiously.

‘I’m over here,’ groaned Parsley.

Dill turned to face him. ‘I do wish you’d stay still,’ he complained. ‘It’s very confusing when you keep on moving about.’ He took a closer look at Parsley. ‘Do you know another thing I do?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Parsley. ‘I’ll buy it. What do you do?’

‘I try lifting both my right legs off the ground,’ said Dill.

‘You mean – like this?’ asked Parsley, doing his best to oblige.

Dill ran round to Parsley’s right side in order to inspect him. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Very good.

‘Now,’ he continued, running round to the other side again. ‘Try lifting both your left legs off the ground at the same time.’

‘That,’ he said sadly, when the noise of falling buckets and brooms had died down, ‘is what always happens to me.’

‘Ow!’ cried Parsley, trying to disentangle himself from Aunt Mint’s wool. ‘Ohhhh! Oooooooooooooh!’ He glared at Dill. ‘I shall never, never tell anyone I’m at a loose end again,’ he wailed. ‘And I shall never, never, ever advertise in an agony column.

‘Ow!’ He rubbed himself. ‘I’ve often wondered how it got its name. Now I know!’