Buttercup and Daisy stood at the edge of the pond in the cow-field.
It was very hot and Daisy was cross—the flies worried her so. She
stood with her two fore-feet in the water—her mother had told her
not to—but as I said before, Daisy was cross, and when little calves
are cross, and the weather is warm and the water is cold, they don’t
always do as they are told.
Buttercup didn’t put her feet in the water. You see Buttercup was not
cross.
[Illustration: Cow looking left]
“Oh, those flies!” said Daisy, whisking her tail round and putting
it into Buttercup’s eye by mistake. Buttercup began to cry and
gave her sister a little shove with her new horns, which were just
growing, and Daisy fell on her knees in the mud.
[Illustration: Two cows]
“You nasty little thing!” she said, “I don’t like you any more. Oh
yes, you can tell Mother if you like, but I shan’t get into trouble.
I’m going away from this horrid old field.”
Buttercup ran off to her Mother and Daisy got up and tried to wash
her knees.
Presently she heard all the others calling her.
“I shan’t go,” she said to herself, but when she turned her head a
tiny bit and looked out of the corner of her eye so that the others
should not see that she was looking, she saw that they were all
running as hard as they could towards the gate that led into the
road.
[Illustration: Herd of cows]
“I’ll just go and see what it is,” she said, “and then I can run away
afterwards, but I won’t speak to any of them.” She hurried across the
field, and when she got to the gate some of the kind cows made room
for her, and she looked into the road. There she saw every sort and
kind of animal! There was going to be a circus in the town, and all
the animals were walking down the road in a procession. First came
the elephants, four of them—walking two and two—with their keepers
beside them. Then came two camels, then a large cage of lions—drawn
by horses—then another cage with tigers, and another with wolves in
it. Oh, it was going to be a fine circus!
Then there were a great many horses ridden by people in beautiful
dresses, and, last of all, came the most wonderful thing of all. It
was a bull led by a man dressed like an Indian in gold-embroidered
satin, who carried a trumpet in his hand, which he blew now and then
after shouting, “Honour to my lord, the Sacred Bull of Burma!”
[Illustration: Cow in India]
“Good gracious!” said Daisy’s Mother, “is that a bull? Poor thing, he
does look ill and worn-like; a run in our field for a month or two
would set him up for ever.”
Indeed the bull did look rather strange. All his hair had been
carefully shaved, leaving him just in his pink skin, and then he had
been tattooed, which means that he was covered with a pattern, drawn
in blue. His horns had been gilded. He gave one look at the cows
looking over the gate, as the procession turned the corner, and that
was the last they saw of him. Daisy had quite forgotten her quarrel
with Buttercup, and they both walked away from the gate, talking of
the wonderful things they had just seen, and especially of the bull.
“Don’t you think, Butty,” said Daisy, “that we could do something for
the bull? He must be dreadfully cold without his proper coat. I feel
so sorry for him.”
“So do I,” said Buttercup, “but I don’t know what we could do.”
“I shall try and find out where he lives,” said Daisy, “and then
perhaps we could get him away from those people and he could stop
here and live with us. I’m sure he could tell us lovely tales.”
“Yes,” said Buttercup, “but how will you do it?”
“I don’t know,” said Daisy, “I must think.”
So all the afternoon Daisy thought, and thought, and when the sun
sank down and twilight came she got through a hole in the hedge and
went down the road, down which the procession had gone that morning.
When she had turned the corner of the road she saw before her, in one
of the fields, a great white tent, with a great many caravans round
it. Daisy was a sensible little calf, and she knew at once that this
tent must have something to do with the Sacred Bull. So she walked up
to it and looked through a small opening at the side. It was filled
with people, and Daisy saw elephants doing tricks in the large ring,
which was in the middle of the tent. She saw the cages of lions and
tigers, but there was no Sacred Bull. Then Daisy said to herself:
“He must be outside—that is better, because no one will see me speak
to him,” and she walked away from the tent and sniffed all round the
caravans, but she could not find the bull. At last she saw a little
wooden hut on wheels.
“That must be his house,” she said, and hurried up to it. When she
got near it she mooed gently, and the Sacred Bull put his head out of
a hole at one side of his house and answered her.
Now although the Bull was a Burmese bull there is only one language
for bulls and cows in all countries, and he understood at once what
Daisy had said to him.
“What is this field you speak of?” he said.
“Why!” said Daisy, “it’s just a field. Don’t you know what a field
is? This is a field too, but it’s not as nice as _our_ field.”
[Illustration: Cow looking up]
“Say ‘my lord’ when you speak to me,” said the bull, “and bend your
knees. All people bow down before me wherever I go.”
“But I’m sure our cows won’t be always bending their knees in the
field,” said Daisy, trying to bend hers as she spoke, and only
hurting herself rather badly, besides looking silly.
“Then _I_ certainly shan’t come!” said the bull. “What do you have to
eat there?”
“We eat the flowers and the sweet green grass—my lord,” said Daisy.
“Common green grass!” shrieked the bull, “why, look here!” and he
took hold of Daisy to make her look into his stall. It was painted in
white and gold, and in one corner there was a large shining bowl of
polished wood, filled with beautiful fresh vegetables.
“What do you think of that?” said the bull. “Go home, little cowlet,
to your old field. When _I_ go out people bend their knees before
me, and give me sweet things to eat, and make beautiful noises in my
honour, while you are driven along by a boy with a stick—ah! it’s
something to be a Sacred Bull of Burma I can tell you!” and he put
his head back into his stall and would not speak again.
Daisy turned away and walked sadly home. She felt very angry with the
bull and very sorry that she had taken so much trouble for him. When
she got home she told her Mother all about it.
“Of course!” said her Mother, “never meddle with other people. And,
my dear little calf, what _have_ you done to your knees?” she cried,
beginning to lick Daisy’s knees, for they looked a little sore still.
“It was bending them before the Sacred Bull,” said Daisy.
“Sacred Bull, indeed! sacred cabbage-stalks. Lie down and go to
sleep, Daisy, and mind you don’t fill your sister’s head with any
nonsense about Sacred Bulls!”
Daisy did as she was told, but just as she was dropping off to
sleep, she gave a little shake of joy. “Why,” she said, “I don’t
mind! I don’t believe any calf ever had such an adventure before.”
And I am sure she was right.