"Of the house of David! Why, you don't seem to know whether you're on your head or your heels," and with a laugh the fruit-seller went his way.
"It is true," thought Joseph, "noble ancestors are useless to a man of no importance." For the future he would let David alone.
Mary now advised him to go outside the town again. Perhaps the very poor or entire strangers would have pity on them. And as they staggered along the stony road to the valley the woman sank down on the grass.
Joseph looked at her searchingly. "Mary, Mary, what is it?"
A shepherd came along, looked at them, and listened to their request for shelter.
"My wife is ill, and no one will take us in," complained Joseph.
"Then you must go to the beasts," said the shepherd cheerfully. "Come with me. I'll gladly share my house with you. The earth is my bed, the sky my roof, and a rocky cave my bedchamber."
And he led them to a hollow in the mossy rocks, and it had a roof woven out of rushes. Inside an ox was chewing the hay it had eaten out of the manger. A brown ass stood near by and licked the ox's big head. There was still some hay left in the manger and in the corner was a bed of dry leaves.
"Since you have nothing better, lie down here and rest as well as you can. I will seek a bed at my neighbour's."
So saying the shepherd went away. It had now grown dark.