Meanwhile, Two-Legs and his wife walked on; and, the farther they walked, the more they wondered at the splendour of the world. They had no suspicion of the attention which they attracted and they did not see that all the animals were stealthily following in their tracks. Wherever they came, the trees put their tops together and whispered, the birds flew in the air above their heads and astonished eyes started at them from every bush.
“We will live here,” said Two-Legs and pointed to a wonderful little meadow, where the river flowed between flowers and grass.
“No, here!” cried his wife and ran into the adjoining wood, where the trees dispensed a deep shade and the moss was thick and soft.
“How strange their voices sound!” said the nightingale. “They have more notes than I.”
“If they were not so big, I should advise them to build a nest beside me in the rushes,” said the reed-warbler.
The two new animals walked on and constantly found a place which was prettier than the last which they had seen; and they could not make up their minds to stay anywhere. Then they met the dog, who was limping badly, having cut his foot on a sharp stone. He tried to run away from them, but could not. Mrs. Two-Legs took hold of him and looked at the injured foot:
“I’ll help you, you poor fellow,” she said. “Wait a minute. I hurt my own foot the other day and healed it with leaves.”
The dog saw that she meant well by him. He waited patiently while she ran into the copsewood for leaves. Two-Legs patted him on the back and talked kindly to him. Then she came back with the leaves, put them on his foot and bound a tendril round them:
“Run away now,” she said. “To-morrow you’ll be quite well again.”