overed with them from head to foot. Only his face and hands
were free of the strange growth.

With a cry of horror, Wang began to pull the feathers out by handfuls,
flinging them in the dirt and stamping on them. "The gods have fooled
me!" he yelled. "They made me take the duck and eat it, and now they are
punishing me for stealing." But the faster he jerked the feathers out,
the faster they grew in again, longer and more glossy than before. Then,
too, the pain was so great that he could scarcely keep from rolling on
the ground. At last completely worn out by his useless labour, and
moaning with despair, he took to his bed. "Am I to be changed into a
bird?" he groaned. "May the gods have mercy on me!"

He tossed about on his bed: he could not sleep; his heart was sick with
fear. Finally he fell into a troubled sleep, and, sleeping, had a dream.
A fairy came to his bedside; it was Fairy Old Boy, the friend of the
people. "Ah, my poor Wang," said the fairy, "all this trouble you have
brought upon yourself by your shiftless, lazy habits. When others work,
why do you lie down and sleep your time away? Why don't you get up and
shake your lazy legs? There is no place in the world for such a man as
you except the pig-sty."

"I know you are telling the truth," wailed Wang, "but how, oh, how can I
ever work with all these feathers sticking out of me? They will kill me!
They will kill me!"

"Hear the man!" laughed Old Boy. "Now, if you were a hopeful, happy
fellow, you would say, 'What a stroke of luck! No need to buy garments.
The gods have given me a suit of clothes that will never wear out.' You
are a pretty fellow to be complaining, aren't you?"

After joking in this way for a little while, the good fairy changed his
tone of voice and said, "Now, Wang, are you really sorry for the way
you have lived, sorry for your years of idleness, sorry because you
disgraced your old Father and Mother? I hear your parents died of hunger
because you would not help them."

Wang, seeing that Old Boy knew all about his past life, and, feeling his
pain growing worse and worse every minute, cried out at last: "Yes! Yes!
I will do anything you say. Only, I pray you, free me of these
feathers!"

"I wouldn't have your feathers," said Old Boy, "and I cannot free you of
them. You will have to do the whole thing yourself. What you need is to
hear a good scolding. Go and get Mr. Lin, the owner of the stolen duck,
to scold freely. The harder he