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They went on, but the dog stood looking after them and wagging his tail. The other animals came out of the bushes and copses:

“You’ve been talking to the strangers. What did they say? What are they like?” they all asked in chorus.

“They are better than the other animals in the forest,” replied the dog. “They have healed my foot and stroked my skin. I shall never forget it.”

“They have healed the dog’s foot.... They have stroked the dog’s skin....”

It ran from mouth to mouth through the forest. The trees whispered it to one another, the flowers sighed and nodded, the lizards rushed round with the story and the nightingale set it to music. The new animals went on and thought no more of the dog.

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At last, however, they were so tired that they sat down. They stooped over the spring and drank and laughed at their own image in the water. They plucked juicy fruits from the trees and ate them. When the sun went down, they lay down to rest in the grass and went to sleep with their arms about each other’s necks. A little way off, the dog, who had followed in their footsteps, lay with his head on his paws, watching them. The round full moon shone straight down upon them. She also shone in the big face of the ox, who stood looking at them.