Turning round and round himself, the Sun danced through the first town. All the people ran into the market-place, equipped with little mirrors in which to catch and, with a bit of luck, take home one or two late Sunrays.

When the Sun-procession paraded and pirouetted past the big round fountain in the middle of the town, the warmth of the Sun swallowed up all the water with one huge, single gulp - and the children rushed forward to pick up the coins they could now reach without getting wet.

All the people, young and old, joined in the dancing. The roofs shimmered with copper-coloured excitement, and the animals flocked together and chatted about the fantastic news of the Sun-event.

The sick people were so happy that they went to the healthy people and helped them eat their apple-crumble. The silver plates had taken on a shimmer of gold. The soap bubbles were flashing inside with flecks of gold, even the scales of the fishes glistened with gold - and the freshly cast bronze bells rang out the glorious message to all the countries in the world.

Wherever the Sun went, he was celebrated - in all the countries far and wide. In Italy, really all the people, without a single exception, began to sing 'O Sole Mio' (which means 'Oh, my lovely Sun' ), and when the Sun eventually came prancing into Greece, the pious people there lit their torches on the Sunrays and fell on their knees, praying 'Hagios Helios' - or 'Agioς Helioς' as they write it (which means 'Holy Sun').

By now it was very, very late - and even the Sun grew quite tired. The Moon, still locked away by Sun-seeking clouds, had become rather impatient and could hardly wait any longer. So the Sun looked for the nearest river to have a good wash and settle down for the night. When, at last, he dipped into the soothing wet water, it became dark and silent everywhere.