to get away from the heat, and crying out in pain:

Fire, fire! do not scorch me like this; you can't think how it
hurts.'

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' answered the fire, 'you would not help me
when I was dying away in the wood. You are being punished.'

At last, just when the pain was so great that Medio Pollito
thought he must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the pot to see
if the broth was ready for the King's dinner.

'Look here!' he cried in horror, 'this chicken is quite useless.
It is burnt to a cinder. I can't send it up to the royal table;'
and opening the window he threw Medio Pollito out into the
street. But the wind caught him up, and whirled him through the
air so quickly that Medio Pollito could scarcely breathe, and his
heart beat against his side till he thought it would break.

'Oh, wind!' at last he gasped out, 'if you hurry me along like
this you will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or--' but he was
so breathless that he could not finish his sentence.

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the wind, 'when I was caught in the
branches of the chestnut tree you would not help me; now you are
punished.' And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the
houses till they reached the highest church in the town, and
there he left him fastened to the top of the steeple.

And there stands Medio Pollito to this day. And if you go to