"The very thing for the King's dinner!" she said. "I was needing a
chicken!" And she seized the little Half-Chick by his one wing and threw
him into a kettle of water on the fire.

The Water came over the little Half-Chick's feathers, over his head,
into his eyes. It was terribly uncomfortable. The little Half-Chick
cried out,--

"Water, don't drown me! Stay down, don't come so high!"

"But," the Water said, "Little Half-Chick, little Half-Chick, when I was
in trouble you would not help me," and came higher than ever.

Now the Water grew warm, hot, hotter, frightfully hot; the little
Half-Chick cried out, "Do not burn so hot, Fire! You are burning me to
death! Stop!"

But the Fire said, "Little Half-Chick, little Half-Chick, when I was in
trouble you would not help me," and burned hotter than ever.

Just as the little Half-Chick thought he must suffocate, the Cook took
the cover off, to look at the dinner. "Dear me," she said, "this chicken
is no good; it is burned to a cinder." And she picked the little
Half-Chick up by one leg and threw him out of the window.

In the air he was caught by a breeze and taken up higher than the trees.
Round and round he was twirled till he was so dizzy he thought he must
perish. "Don't blow me so, Wind," he cried, "let me down!"