The Mexican Twins

One summer morning the red rooster on his perch in the fig tree woke up and took a look at the sky. He was a very responsible rooster. He was always the first one up in the morning, and I really think he believed that if it were not for him the sun himself would forget to rise. It was so very early that a few stars still shone, and a pale moon was sailing away toward the west. Over the eastern hills the rooster saw a pink cloud, and knew at once that it was time to wake the world. He stood up and stretched his wings. Then he crowed so long and loud that he nearly fell off his perch backward, on to the cat, who was sleeping on the roof just below. “Cock a doodle do-o-o!” he screamed. “I’m awake, are you-oo-oo?” At least that is the way it must have sounded to all the other roosters in the little village, for they began at once to answer him. “Cock a doodle doo-oo, we’re up as soon as you-oo,” they cried; and soon there was such a chorus of them calling back and forth that the five hens woke up, one after another, and flew down from the perch, to hunt bugs for their breakfast.