He remembered this about the homespun cloth, as he looked down on Oestergoetland, because it was made up of a large plain, which lay wedged in between two mountainous forest-tracts—­one to the north, the other to the south.  The two forest-heights lay there, a lovely blue, and shimmered in the morning light, as if they were decked with golden veils; and the plain, which simply spread out one winter-naked field after another, was, in and of itself, prettier to look upon than gray homespun.

But the people must have been contented on the plain, because it was generous and kind, and they had tried to decorate it in the best way possible.  High up—­where the boy rode by—­he thought that cities and farms, churches and factories, castles and railway stations were scattered over it, like large and small trinkets.  It shone on the roofs, and the window-panes glittered like jewels.  Yellow country roads, shining railway-tracks and blue canals ran along between the districts like embroidered loops.  Linkoeping lay around its cathedral like a pearl-setting around a precious stone; and the gardens in the country were like little brooches and buttons.  There was not much regulation in the pattern, but it was a display of grandeur which one could never tire of looking at.

The geese had left Oeberg district, and travelled toward the east along Goeta Canal.  This was also getting itself ready for the summer.  Workmen laid canal-banks, and tarred the huge lock-gates.  They were working everywhere to receive spring fittingly, even in the cities.  There, masons and painters stood on scaffoldings and made fine the exteriors of the houses while maids were cleaning the windows.  Down at the harbour, sailboats and steamers were being washed and dressed up.

At Norrkoeping the wild geese left the plain, and flew up toward Kolmarden.  For a time they had followed an old, hilly country road, which wound around cliffs, and ran forward under wild mountain-walls—­when the boy suddenly let out a shriek.  He had been sitting and swinging his foot back and forth, and one of his wooden shoes had slipped off.

“Goosey-gander, goosey-gander, I have dropped my shoe!” cried the boy.  The goosey-gander turned about and sank toward the ground; then the boy saw that two children, who were walking along the road, had picked up his shoe.  “Goosey-gander, goosey-gander,” screamed the boy excitedly, “fly upward again!  It is too late.  I cannot get my shoe back again.”

Down on the road stood Osa, the goose-girl, and her brother, little Mats, looking at a tiny wooden shoe that had fallen from the skies.