'It is your own fault for going there,' answered Medio Pollito.
'I can't waste all my morning stopping here to help you. Just
shake yourself off, and don't hinder me, for I am off to Madrid
to see the King,' and 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