He gave it a touch with a switch over its back, whereupon it kicked up its hind legs for joy, leapt over hedges and ditches, and galloped away into the open country.
But the little tailor had eaten nothing since the day before. “The sun to be sure fills my eyes,” said he, “but the bread does not fill my mouth. The first thing that comes across me and is even half eatable, will have to suffer for it.”
In the meantime a stork stepped solemnly over the meadow toward him.
“Halt, halt!” cried the tailor, and seized him by the leg. “I don’t know if you are good to eat or not, but my hunger leaves me no great choice. I must cut your head off, and roast you.”
“Don’t do that,” replied the stork; “I am a sacred bird which brings mankind great profit, and no one ever does me an injury. Leave me my life, and I may do you good in some other way.”
“Well, be off, Cousin Longlegs,” said the tailor.
The stork rose up, let its long legs hang down, and flew gently away.
“What’s to be the end of this?” said the tailor to himself at last; “my hunger grows greater and greater, and my stomach more and more empty. Whatsoever comes in my way now is lost.”
At this moment, he saw a couple of young ducks which were on a pond, come swimming toward him.
“You come just at the right moment,” said he, and laid hold of one of them and was about to wring its neck.