nd
hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito in great glee,
for the towers and roofs of Madrid were now in sight. When he entered
the town he saw before him a great splendid house, with soldiers
standing before the gates. This he knew must be the King's palace, and
he determined to hop up to the front gate and wait there until the King
came out. But as he was hopping past one of the back windows the King's
cook saw him:

'Here is the very thing I want,' he exclaimed, 'for the King has just
sent a message to say that he must have chicken broth for his dinner,'
and opening the window he stretched out his arm, caught Medio Pollito,
and popped him into the broth-pot that was standing near the fire. Oh!
how wet and clammy the water felt as it went over Medio Pollito's head,
making his feathers cling to his side.

'Water, water!' he cried in his despair, 'do have pity upon me and do
not wet me like this.'

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the water, 'you would not help me when I
was a little stream away on the fields, now you must be punished.'

Then the fire began to burn and scald Medio Pollito, and he danced and
hopped from one side of the pot to the other, trying to get away from
the heat, and crying out in pain:

Fire, fire! do not scorch me like this; you can't think how it hurts.'

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' answered the fire, 'you would not help me when I
was dying away in the wood. You are being punished.'

At last, just when the pain was so great that Medio Pollito thought he
must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the pot to see if the broth was
ready for the King's dinner.

'Look here!' he cried in horror, 'this chicken is quite useless. It is
burnt to a cinder. I can't send it up to the royal table;' and opening
the window he threw Medio Pollito out into the street. But the wind
caught him up, and whirled him through the air so quickly that Medio
Pollito could scarcely breathe, and his heart beat against his side till
he thought it would break.

'Oh, wind!' at last he gasped out, 'if you hurry me along like this you
will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or--' but he was so breathless
that he could not finish his sentence.

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the wind, 'when I was caught in the
branches of the chestnut tree you would not help me; now you are
punished.' And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the houses
till they reached the highest church in the town, and there he left him
fastene