"I knows a moon-calf when I sees him!" says the maid; and with that she boxed his ears, and sat down to milk the cow, and he went away in a huff.
But the cow heard what the maid said, and began to wonder what moon-calves were, and whether they were anything like her calf. Presently, when the maid had gone away with the pail of milk, she said to the Oldest Ox, who happened to be standing near,—
"Old Ox, pray tell me, what is a moon-calf?"
The Oldest Ox did not know anything about moon-calves, but he had no idea of betraying his ignorance to anybody, much less to a very young cow; so he answered promptly, "It's a calf that lives in the moon, of course."
"Is it—are they—like other calves?" inquired the cow, timidly, "or a different sort of animal?"
"When a creature is called a calf," replied the Ox, severely, "it is a calf. If it were a cat, a hyena, or a toad with three tails, it would be called by its own name. Now do you understand?"
Then he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep, for he did not like to answer questions on matters of which he knew nothing; it fatigued his brain, and oxen should always avoid fatigue of the brain.
But the young cow had one more question to ask, and could not rest till it was answered; so mustering all her courage, she said, desperately, "Oh, Old Ox! before you go to sleep, please—please, tell me if people ever take calves to the moon from here?"
"Frequently!" said the Oldest Ox. "I wish you were there, now. I am asleep. Good-night to you!" and in a few minutes he really was asleep.