Morning light lay soft on the riverside road, and there stood a cart loaded high with sacks of rice — but no ox to pull it. Goose beat her great white wings. "It's market day! Who needs an ox? There are three of us!"
They tied three strong ropes to the cart. "My wings hold the strength of the sky!" said Goose. "My tail holds the strength of the river!" said Catfish. "And these claws grip like iron!" said Crab. But which way to pull? Nobody thought to ask.
"Heave-ho!" Goose pulled for the sky — flap, flap! Catfish pulled for the deep water — splash! Crab pulled backwards down the road — click, clack! They pulled and strained and dripped. And the cart? Creeeak. Not one inch.
"You're not pulling properly!" snapped Goose. "You're pulling the wrong way!" huffed Catfish. "Quiet, both of you! Again!" said Crab. So they pulled harder. And harder. The cart stayed exactly, stubbornly where it was.
Evening came. The three friends sat in silence — wings drooping, whiskers drooping, claws flat in the dust. Far away the market drums were fading. Dum… dum… The stalls were coming down.
Suddenly Crab's eyes lit up on their stalks. "I walk backwards — I've been watching you two all day! Goose pulls for the sky, Catfish for the river, and I pull down the road. Three friends, three directions!" "Then what do we do?" "Pull ONE way — toward the market!"
One… two… three — HEAVE! Creak-creak — the cart rolled! The market was long over, of course; that market day never came back. But down the moonlit road, three friends sang as they pulled: "One way — heave! Together — ho!"