"I'll help you," says he, "if I find you're biddable. So just at nightfall you'll come into a village. . . . . Good-bye till to-morrow."
It was just as the fox said, but the boy took care not to go near dancer, drinker, fiddler, or piper. He got welcome in the quiet house to supper and bed, and was on his journey next morning before the sun was the height of the trees.
He wasn't gone a quarter of a mile when he saw the fox coming out of a wood that was by the roadside.
"Good-morrow, fox," says one.
"Good-morrow, sir," says the other.
"Have you any notion how far you have to travel till you find the golden bird?"
"Dickens a notion have I;—how could I?"
"Well, I have. She's in the King of Spain's palace, and that's a good two hundred miles off."
"Oh, dear! we'll be a week going."
"No, we won't. Sit down on my tail, and we'll soon make the road short."
"Tail, indeed! that 'ud be the droll saddle, my poor moddhereen."
"Do as I tell you, or I'll leave you to yourself."
Well, rather than vex him he sat down on the tail that was spread out level like a wing, and away they went like thought. They overtook the wind that was before them, and the wind that came after didn't overtake them. In the afternoon, they stopped in a wood near the King of Spain's palace, and there they stayed till nightfall.
"Now," says the fox, "I'll go before you to make the minds of the guards easy, and you'll have nothing to do but
