"Come to the table, then," exclaimed the porter, pushing Jack along the wide hall-way. "Eat and drink and spare nothing, for you are the guest of his most powerful majesty King Calamor."
Jack did not wait for a second invitation. He hurried to the dining-room and ate his fill, and his rooster—the rooster with the golden feathers—ate heartily of the crumbs that fell from the table. As it was already late, the porter made haste to prepare a bed for the wayfarer, and Jack soon fell asleep, with the rooster perched on the headboard of his bed.
It so happened that in that country those who served King Calamor had to go and search for Day every morning. They not only had to search for Day, but they had to hunt for the place where it could be found. Jack slept but lightly, and he heard the conversation of the servants, who were in the same room.
"Get up!" said one; "it is time for us to be going. We must be hunting for Day."
"Wait a little," said the other, "I am very sleepy."
"No, no," said the first, "we must make haste, or some one who rises earlier might seize the Sun and carry it away, and then the King, our master, would be very angry."
"Is the wagon ready?" asked another.
"Yes, and the axles are all well greased. It is early, and the wagon will not break, as it did last week, and we will be able to go much faster."
All this time Jack was thinking to himself in this wise: "Truly this is a queer country that the King's people have to go off to hunt Day." The servants were up and ready to go, when Jack cried out: