“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.
“But I won’t pull you,” stormed the cock.
So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.
When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”
It flew at the cock with outspread wings. The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.
“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”
The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried. “Something stuck me.”
“I do well to stick you,” replied a small sharp voice. “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”
The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.
The cock looked out from the coach. “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”