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The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square glistened like mica. In the trees, a breeze danced and pranced, and shook drops of sunlight like falling golden coins into the brown water of the canal. Down stream slowly drifted a long string of galliots piled with crimson cheeses. The little boy thought they looked as if they were rocs eggs, blocks of big ruby eggs. He said, Oh! with delight, and pressed against the window with all his might. The golden cock on the top of the `Stadhuis gleamed. His beak was open like a pair of scissors and a narrow piece of blue sky was wedged in it. Cock-a-doodle-do, cried the little boy. Cant you hear me through the window, Gold Cocky? Cock-a-doodle-do! You should crow when you see the eggs of your cousin, the great roc. But the golden cock stood stock still, with his fine tail blowing in the wind. He could not understand the little boy, for he said Cocorico | 
