Prevod
»Draga moja,« je nekega dne rekel petelin kokoši, »kaj praviš, ko bi se sprehodila do Murvinega griča? Murve so zdaj gotovo že zrele in lahko se imenitno pogostiva.«
»To bi mi bilo prav po volji,« je odgovorila kokoš. »Zrelo sadje imam zelo rada, pa ga že dolgo nisem okusila.« In tako sta petelin in kokoš skupaj krenila na pot.
Pot je bila dolga in dan vroč, zato sta bila že pred vrhom griča oba utrujena in zasopla. Tla so bila na gosto posuta z murvami in petelin in kokoš sta tekala sem ter tja, zobala in jedla — zobala in jedla, dokler nista mogla pojesti niti grižljaja več, sonce pa je bilo že blizu zatona.
»Oh! Oh!« je zastokala kokoš. »Kako sem utrujena! Kako bova vendar prišla nazaj domov? Noge imam tako trudne, da ne bi mogla narediti niti koraka več, pa če bi šlo za življenje.«
»Draga moja,« je rekel petelin, »tudi jaz sem utrujen, toda tu vidim precej odpadlih vejic. Če bi iz njih spletel kočijo, bi se lahko udobno odpeljala domov.«
»To je pa pametna zamisel,« je zavzdihnila kokoš. »Le naredi jo. Ničesar nimam raje kakor vožnjo s kočijo.« Petelin se je nemudoma lotil dela in iz vejic ter travnih bilk spletel majhno kočijo, ki ji ni manjkalo nič: imela je ogrodje, kolesa in ojesi.
Kokoš je bila navdušena. Takoj je skočila v kočijo in se udobno namestila. »No, moj dragi Cock-a-lorum,« je vzkliknila, »zdaj moraš samo še stopiti med ojesi in urno zakorakati, pa bova doma, kot bi trenil.«
»Kaj pa govoriš?« je ostro vprašal petelin. »Niti na misel mi ne pride, da bi sam vlekel kočijo. Noge me bolijo prav tako kakor tebe, in če čakaš, da te bom jaz odvlekel domov, lahko sediš tam do sodnega dne.«
»Kako pa bova potem prišla domov?« je vprašala kokoš in začela jokati. »Ne vem,« je odgovoril petelin. »Vem pa, da te jaz ne bom vlekel.«
»Ampak moraš me vleči,« je ihtela kokoš. »Pa te ne bom!« je rohnel petelin. Tako sta se zmerjala in prepirala in kdo ve, kako bi se vse skupaj končalo, če se ne bi nenadoma izza grmovja prikazala raca.
Ko je raca zagledala kokoš in petelina, je nasršila perje in se z jeznim kvakanjem primajala proti njima. »Kaj pa je to! Kaj pa je to!« je zavpila. »Ali ne vesta, da ta grič pripada meni? Takoj se poberita, sicer vaju bom pošteno pretepla.«
Z razprostrtimi perutmi je planila na petelina. A petelin je bil pogumen možiček. Namesto da bi zbežal, se ji je junaško postavil po robu, jo zgrabil in ji izpulil poln kljun perja. Kokoš je vreščala, petelin pa je raco še naprej obdeloval, dokler ni začela prositi za milost.
»Prav,« je rekel petelin in si poravnal perje. »Tokrat te bom izpustil, a le, če obljubiš, da boš najino kočijo odvlekla do najbližjega gostišča, kjer bova lahko prenočila.«
Raca si ni upala zavrniti petelinove zahteve. Stopila je med ojesi, petelin se je povzpel na kočijo in počil z bičem, nato pa so se odpeljali tako hitro, kot je raca zmogla stopicati. Kočija se je zibala in poskakovala čez kamenje, ko je raca nenadoma tako poskočila, da bi jo skoraj prevrnila. »Av! Av!« je zavpila. »Nekaj me je zbodlo.«
»Prav je, da sem te zbodla,« je odvrnil droben, oster glasek. »Morda te bom tako naučila gledati, kod hodiš, in ne teptati poštenih popotnikov, ki so manjši od tebe.«
To je bil glas igle, ki je s svojo tovarišico buciko potovala po isti cesti. Petelin je pogledal iz kočije. »Žal mi je,« je rekel, »da je moja raca tako neprevidna. Ali ne bi prisedli in se peljali z nami?«
Bucika in igla sta to z veseljem storili. Kokoš je bila sprva nekoliko v skrbeh, da ji ne bi katera stopila na nogo, toda obe sta bili tako vljudni in sta tako pazili, da je ne bi stiskali, da se ju je kmalu nehala bati.
Tik pred mrakom je kočija prispela pred vrata nekega gostišča. Tu se je raca ustavila, petelin pa je glasno poklical gostilničarja. Mož je pritekel, a ko je zagledal nenavadne goste v kočiji, jim je skoraj zaloputnil vrata pred nosom. »Tu nočemo nobenih potepuhov,« je zavpil.
»Počakajte malo,« je vzkliknil petelin. »Poglejte to lepo belo jajce, ki ga je znesla kokoš. In tudi raca vsako jutro znese jajce. Obe bosta vaši, če nas vzamete pod streho za to noč.«
No, gostilničar je bil pripravljen pristati na takšno kupčijo. Druščini je velel, naj vstopi in se udobno namesti. Tako so tudi storili ter jedli in pili, kolikor jim je srce poželelo. Nato sta se petelin in kokoš udobno namestila v najboljši postelji, drugi pa so se spravili spat, kakor so pač vedeli in znali.
Ko so vsi zaspali, je gostilničar rekel ženi: »Poslušaj! Prav imenitno kupčijo sem sklenil. Pečena raca je zelo dobra, prav tako pa tudi piščančja pita, in jutri nam bodo naši popotniki priskrbeli oboje. Iglo in buciko pa lahko spraviš v svojo šivalno košarico, saj ti bosta vedno prišli prav.«
Po teh besedah sta tudi gostilničar in njegova žena legla spat, saj je nameraval gostilničar zjutraj vstati zgodaj, še preden bi se njegovi gostje zbudili.
Toda petelin ni bil tak, da bi se pustil komu zalotiti med spanjem. Naslednje jutro, ko je bilo še temno, je zbudil kokoš. »Pridi,« je rekel, »najbolje bo, da vstaneva in jo pobriševa. Tale najin gostilničar se mi zdi zvit in pohlepen mož; še na misel mu bo prišlo, da bi danes za kosilo jedel pečenega piščanca, zato je bolje, da odideva, preden se zbudi.«
Kokoš se je strinjala, toda oba s petelinom sta bila lačna, zato sta si pred odhodom razdelila jajce. Lupine sta vrgla v pepel na ognjišču. Nato sta vzela iglo in jo zapičila v naslonjalo gostilničarjevega stola, buciko pa sta zataknila v brisačo, ki je visela za vrati. Ko sta to opravila, sta razprla peruti in odletela.
Šum njunega odhoda je zbudil raco. Odprla je oči in pogledala za njima. »Glej, glej! Torej sta jo pobrisala. Mislim, da bo najbolje, če se tudi sama odpravim.« S temi besedami se je primajala do reke in odplavala nazaj tja, od koder je prišla.
Kmalu zatem se je zbudil tudi gostilničar. »Pred zajtrkom bom samo skočil dol in poskrbel za popotnike,« je rekel. »Le daj,« je odgovorila žena.
Najprej pa se je gostilničar ustavil v kuhinji, da bi se umil. Vzel je brisačo, da bi si obrisal obraz, in bucika v njej ga je opraskala od ušesa do ušesa. Šel je k ognjišču, da bi si prižgal pipo, in jajčne lupine so mu poletele v obraz. Za hip je sedel na stol, a komaj se je naslonil, je že s krikom skočil pokonci. Igla se mu je zapičila v hrbet.
»Vsega so krivi tisti potepuhi!« je besno zavpil gostilničar, pograbil nož in jih stekel iskat. Toda naj je še tako iskal, nikjer ni bilo ne duha ne sluha o njih, saj so bili že spet varno doma.
Tako gostilničar za ves svoj trud nazadnje ni dobil drugega kakor bolečine.
Izvirnik
“My dear,” said the cock to the hen one day, “what do you say to our taking a walk over to Mulberry Hill? The mulberries must be ripe by now, and we can have a fine feast.”
“That would suit me exactly,” answered the hen. “I am very fond of ripe fruit, and it is a long time since I have tasted any.” So the cock and hen set off together.
The way was long, and the day was hot, and before the two had reached the top of the hill they were both of them tired and out of breath. The mulberries lay thick on the ground, and the cock and the hen ran about hither and yon, pecking and eating—pecking and eating, until they could eat no more, and the sun was near setting.
“Oh! oh!” groaned the hen, “how weary I am. How in the world are we to get home again. My legs are so tired, I could not go another step if my life depended on it.”
“My dear,” said the cock, “I too am weary, but I see here a number of fallen twigs. If I could but weave them into a coach we might ride home in comfort.”
“That is a clever thought,” sighed the hen. “Make it by all means. There is nothing I like better than riding in a coach.”
The cock at once set to work, and by weaving sticks and grasses together he made a little coach with body, wheels, and shafts all complete.
The hen was delighted. She at once hopped into the coach, and seated herself. “Now, my dear Cock-a-lorum,” she cried, “nothing more is needed but for you to get between the shafts and step out briskly, and we will be at home in less than no time.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the cock sharply. “I have no idea of pulling the coach myself. My legs ache as well as yours, and if you wait for me to pull you home you may sit there till doomsday.”
“But how then are we to get home?” asked the hen, beginning to weep.
“I do not know,” answered the cock. “But what I do know is that I am not going to pull you.”
“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.
“But I won’t pull you,” stormed the cock.
So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.
When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”
It flew at the cock with outspread wings. The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.
“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”
The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried. “Something stuck me.”
“I do well to stick you,” replied a small sharp voice. “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”
The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.
The cock looked out from the coach. “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”
This the pin and the needle were glad to do. The hen was somewhat nervous at first, lest one of them might tread on her foot, but they were so polite, and so careful not to crowd her, that she soon lost her fear of them.
Just before nightfall the coach reached the door of an inn. Here the duck stopped, and the cock called loudly for the landlord.
The man came running, but when he saw the strange guests that sat in the coach he almost shut the door on them. “We want no ragamuffins here,” he cried.
“Wait a bit,” cried the cock. “Just see this fine white egg that the hen has laid. And every morning the duck lays an egg also. Both of these shall be yours if you will take us in for the night.”
Well, the landlord was willing to agree to that bargain. He bade the companions enter and make themselves comfortable. This they did, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Then the cock and the hen made themselves comfortable in the best bed, and the others tucked themselves away as best they could.
As soon as they were all asleep the landlord said to his wife, “Listen! This is a fine bargain that I have made. Roast duck is very good, and so is chicken pie, and to-morrow our travelers shall furnish us with both of them. As for the needle and pin you can put them away in your work-basket, and they will always be useful.”
After saying this the landlord and his wife also went to sleep, for the landlord intended to be up early in the morning before his guests had wakened.
The cock, however, was not one to let anyone catch him sleeping. While it was still dark the next morning, he awakened the hen. “Come,” said he; “we’d best be up and away. This landlord of ours seems to me a sly and greedy man; he might take a notion to have roast chicken for dinner to-day, so we had better be gone before he is stirring.”
To this the hen agreed, but she and the cock were both hungry, so before starting they shared the egg between them. The shells they threw in among the ashes on the hearth. Then they took the needle and stuck it in the back of the landlord’s chair; the pin they put in the towel that hung behind the door, and this done they took to their wings and away they flew.
The sound of their going awoke the duck. It opened its eyes and looked after them. “Well, well! So they’re off. I think I’d better be moving myself,” and so saying it waddled down to the river, and swam back to the place whence it had come.
It was not long after this the landlord himself awoke. “I’ll just slip down and see to the travelers before breakfast,” said he.
“Do,” answered his wife.
First, however, the landlord stopped to wash in the kitchen. He picked up the towel to dry his face, and the pin that was in it scratched him from ear to ear. He went to the hearth to light his pipe and the egg-shells flew up in his face. He sat down in his chair for a moment, but scarcely had he leaned back, when he jumped up with a cry. The needle had run into him.
“It is all the fault of those ragamuffins,” cried the landlord in a rage, and he caught up a knife and ran to find them. But search as he might there was not a sign of them anywhere, for they were already safely home again.
So all the landlord had for his trouble after all, was his pains.
