saucily, "I am well able to take care of myself. I am better than my family and must find people who can see how clever I am. So I'm off to Madrid to see the king."
"Well, my son," said the anxious mother-hen, "listen to your mother's last words. Keep away from people known as cooks and scullions; you will know them by their paper caps, tucked up sleeves, and great sharp knives."
So away went Coquerico, making believe not to see the tear in his mother's eye. Without caring for those he left, he hippety-hopped out the gate and stopped only long enough to crow three times, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" Then over the fields he went hippety-hop, hippety-hop.
By and by he came to a small brook almost choked by a couple of dead leaves. "My friend," it called out to him, "will you free me that I may flow on? One stroke of your beak is enough."
"Do I look like a brook-sweeper?" answered Coquerico. "Help yourself; I'm off to Madrid to see the king." And on he went, hippety-hop, hippety-hop.
A little farther on Coquerico saw the wind lying breathless on the ground. "Dear friend, help me," it cried; "here on earth we should help one another. If you will fan me a little with your wing I shall have strength to rise to my place among the clouds, where I am needed for the next whirlwind."
