'Mother, I am tired of this life in a dull farmyard, with nothing
but a dreary maize field to look at. I'm off to Madrid to see the
King.'

'To Madrid, Medio Pollito!' exclaimed his mother; 'why, you silly
chick, it would be a long journey for a grown-up cock, and a poor
little thing like you would be tired out before you had gone half
the distance. No, no, stay at home with your mother, and some
day, when you are bigger, we will go a little journey together.'

But Medio Pollito had made up his mind, and he would not listen
to his mother's advice, nor to the prayers and entreaties of his
brothers and sisters.

'What is the use of our all crowding each other up in this poky
little place?' he said. 'When I have a fine courtyard of my own
at the King's palace, I shall perhaps ask some of you to come and
pay me a short visit,' and scarcely waiting to say good-bye to
his family, away he stumped down the high road that led to
Madrid.

'Be sure that you are kind and civil to everyone you meet,'
called his mother, running after him; but he was in such a hurry
to be off, that he did not wait to answer her, or even to look
back.

A little later in the day, as he was taking a short cut through a
field, he passed a stream. Now the stream was all choked up, and
overgrown with weeds and water-plants, so that its waters could
not flow freely.