When he came out in the hallway, he looked around for his wooden shoes; for in the house, to be sure, he had gone about in his stocking-feet.  He wondered how he should manage with these big, clumsy wooden shoes; but just then, he saw a pair of tiny shoes on the doorstep.  When he observed that the elf had been so thoughtful that he had also bewitched the wooden shoes, he was even more troubled.  It was evidently his intention that this affliction should last a long time.

On the wooden board-walk in front of the cottage, hopped a gray sparrow.  He had hardly set eyes on the boy before he called out:  “Teetee!  Teetee!  Look at Nils goosey-boy!  Look at Thumbietot!  Look at Nils Holgersson Thumbietot!”

Instantly, both the geese and the chickens turned and stared at the boy; and then they set up a fearful cackling.  “Cock-el-i-coo,” crowed the rooster, “good enough for him!  Cock-el-i-coo, he has pulled my comb.”  “Ka, ka, kada, serves him right!” cried the hens; and with that they kept up a continuous cackle.  The geese got together in a tight group, stuck their heads together and asked:  “Who can have done this?  Who can have done this?”

But the strangest thing of all was, that the boy understood what they said.  He was so astonished, that he stood there as if rooted to the doorstep, and listened.  “It must be because I am changed into an elf,” said he.  “This is probably why I understand bird-talk.”

He thought it was unbearable that the hens would not stop saying that it served him right.  He threw a stone at them and shouted: 

“Shut up, you pack!”

But it hadn’t occurred to him before, that he was no longer the sort of boy the hens need fear.  The whole henyard made a rush for him, and formed a ring around him; then they all cried at once:  “Ka, ka, kada, served you right!  Ka, ka, kada, served you right!”

The boy tried to get away, but the chickens ran after him and screamed, until he thought he’d lose his hearing.  It is more than likely that he never could have gotten away from them, if the house cat hadn’t come along just then.  As soon as the chickens saw the cat, they quieted down and pretended to be thinking of nothing else than just to scratch in the earth for worms.

Immediately the boy ran up to the cat.  “You dear pussy!” said he, “you must know all the corners and hiding places about here?  You’ll be a good little kitty and tell me where I can find the elf.”

The cat did not reply at once.  He seated himself, curled his tail into a graceful ring around his paws—­and stared at the boy.  It was a large black cat with one white spot on his chest.  His fur lay sleek and soft, and shone in the sunlight.  The claws were drawn in, and the eyes were a dull gray, with just a little narrow dark streak down the centre.  The cat looked thoroughly good-natured and inoffensive.

“I know well enough where the elf lives,” he said in a soft voice, “but that doesn’t say that I’m going to tell you about it.”