The weathercock strutted on ahead of them, and George and Alexander followed.
"He can talk too," said George. "Everybody seems able to talk here."
"Of course," replied Alexander. "Why shouldn't they? Everything and everybody talks in its own way if you only know how to listen. Why, the wind's talking all the time. Can't you hear it?"
George stood still and listened. "It does seem to be saying something. It sounds just like: 'Oh-oo! Oh-oo!'"
Alexander laughed—such a funny, wuffy laugh. "It's humming a tune to the trees. Can't you see them nodding their heads in time to the music? If the wind were angry they would be shivering and shaking with fright. Perhaps it will talk to us by and by."
"Come on!" cried the cock, looking round, "I have to get back to work or else the wind will be coming along and scolding me for wasting time."
They walked along down a winding path, up a little hill, down another, and there in front stood a post with a large finger pointing straight ahead.
"Here you are!" said the cock. "Go straight on until you arrive there. The weather will be quite fine, and your fortune is waiting for you. If you want to get back ask any of my family you may meet and they will show you the way. Good-bye!" He flapped his wings, crowed "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" and disappeared.
George went up to the finger-post, and there, printed on it in large letters, was: "THIS WAY TO ONCE-UPON-A-TIME."