"Crow as much as you like," said Mother Goose. "Now that Puss is awake you can make all the noise you wish. At first I thought we were not going to stop on your barn, Sir Chantecler, and that was the reason I asked you to delay your early morning crow so that we could be far away before you commenced. Puss is in need of all the sleep he can get, for in a few days he will be on his feet again. He has still a long ways to go ere he finds his famous father, Puss in Boots."
"Well," answered the weathercock, "I didn't crow before day, so kindly give me a gold comb and silver wings."
"That I will," answered Mother Goose, "this very evening."
"And who will bring them?" asked the weathercock, for he was very vain, and is sometimes called a weather-vane, perhaps for that reason. "Who will bring them to me, and how am I to know that a gold comb will be becoming or that silver wings will suit my complexion?"
"Leave that to me," said Mother Goose, with a lofty air. "Weathercocks only know of the breezes that blow; they swing back and forth when the wind's from the north, the south, east or west—they are never at rest."
"More poetry from Mother Goose," sighed the weathercock. "If people must talk, why do they want to rhyme it out? Let them talk in good old prose. It suits me best."
Mother Goose evidently did not hear his remarks, for she was busily feeding the gander. Puss was stretching his legs by walking along the roof and watching some sparrows who were chirping under the eaves. Presently she called Puss. "We are off again," she cried; "get aboard the goose-ship!" When they were comfortably seated she turned to the weathercock and said: "This evening the sun will gild your comb and silver your wings just before he goes behind yonder western hill. Good-by!"
The weathercock did not reply, and the gander did not wait, but flew away with his two passengers safely sitting on his back.