“Do not trouble yourself over that,” said the donkey. “I am going to the city to be a musician, and if you like you shall come along and sing with me. I know you have a fine voice, and we two together may make our fortunes.”
The hound was pleased with this idea. He got to his feet, and he and the donkey went on together in company.
A little while after they came to where a cat sat in the grass by the roadside, looking as sad and doleful as a rainy day in fall.
“What is the matter with you, Whiskers?” asked the donkey. “You look as though all the cream were sour and all the rats were dead.”
“There is no cream for me nowadays,” said the cat, “and though there are plenty of rats I am too old to catch them. I am no longer quick and active, and I would rather sit by the fire and purr. For this reason my mistress has driven me out of the house with a broom, and I have no place to go. What would you advise me to do in such a case?”
“Come with us,” said the donkey. “Brother Bellmouth and I are going to the city to be musicians, and if you choose to come along and join your voice with ours we shall be glad to have you.”
The cat was delighted, and leaping out into the road it trotted along beside the others.
Presently they came to a farmyard, and a cock had flown up on the gate post. It stretched its neck and crowed, and crowed again.
“Enough! Enough!” cried the donkey. “Do you want to split our ears with your crowing?”
“I must crow while I can,” said the cock, “for that is my business. Every morning I crow to wake the men, and I also crow to tell what weather we will have. But I heard the mistress say that company was coming to-morrow and that she must make me into soup, so my crowing days are almost over.”