Dawn on the beach, and Rooster is up first, as always. Cock-a-doodle-doo! On his little clay stove the cakes are frying — sizzle, sizzle — sweet and golden. "Today," he says happily, "I'm going to eat every last one myself."
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! In barged Rhino, shaking the whole beach. "Move!" One shove tipped the stove right over, and he speared every single cake on his horn. Rooster flew up into the palm tree. "You only had to ask — I'd have shared!" "Hmph," said Rhino, with his mouth full. "Rhinos don't ask."
Now, in those days Rhino's skin was smooth as glass and tight all over, with just three buttons underneath. Off he waddled with his cakes — no please, no thank-you, not even a look back. Rooster watched him go, very quietly. "Well," he said. "We'll see."
Then came the hottest day of the year. Phew, what a sun! Rhino undid his three buttons, stepped clean out of his skin, left it lying on the sand — and SPLASH! In he went, up to his chin in the cool sea, happy as could be. The skin lay on the beach, all alone.
Everything was still. Only the waves went hush… hush… Down hopped Rooster. Around the tipped-over stove lay dry cake crumbs. Scratch, scratch, peck — he tipped every last crumb inside that skin, and gave it a good shake. "Now we're even."
Back came Rhino, climbed into his skin, and did up the buttons. And then — itch! ITCH! He rolled in the sand, he rubbed against the palm tree, he stamped and he snorted — but the itch would not stop. His smooth skin rubbed up into great big folds, and the buttons popped right off. And who do you think did that?
From that day to this, Rhino's skin has been full of wrinkles, and his temper just a little itchy — the folds never did smooth out again. But now, when he smells cakes on the wind, he comes up slowly and asks, "Please, friend — may I have a little?" And Rooster smiles. "Here you are!"