The three refugees come upon a farmyard, where a rooster perched on the gate crying with all his might. “Your cries pierce one’s marrow & bone” said the donkey. “What are you up to?”

“I just prophesied good weather” said the rooster, “because it is Our Dear Lady’s Day, when she washes the Christ Child’s shirts & wants to dry them; but because Sunday guests are coming, she has no mercy. And told the cook she wants me in the soup tomorrow. I’m supposed to let them cut my head off this evening. So now I will use my voice as long as I can.”