So his master began to consider how much he
could make of the donkey's skin, but the beast, perceiving that no
good wind was blowing, ran away along the road to Bremen. "There,"
thought he, "I can be town musician." When he had run some way, he
found a hound lying by the roadside, yawning like one who was very
tired. "What are you yawning for now, you big fellow?" asked the ass.
"Ah," replied the hound, "because every day I grow older and weaker; I
cannot go any more to the hunt, and my master has well-nigh beaten me
to death, so that I took to flight; and now I do not know how to earn
my bread."
"Well, do you know," said the ass, "I am going to Bremen, to be town
musician there; suppose you go with me and take a share in the music.
I will play on the lute, and you shall beat the kettledrums." The dog
was satisfied, and off they set.
Presently they came to a cat, sitting in the middle of the path, with
a face like three rainy days! "Now, then, old shaver, what has crossed
you?" asked the ass.
"How can one be merry when one's neck has been pinched like mine?"
answered the cat. "Because I am growing old, and my teeth are all worn
to stumps, and because I would rather sit by the fire and spin, than
run after mice, my mistress wanted to drown me; and so I ran away.
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