The Town of Golden Stone

Polly flew down into the old town at last. Narrow streets wound between low white houses, and her wings almost touched the walls on both sides.

In the middle of the town stood a great church. It looked more like a castle than a church, with high walls, a tall tower, and battlements running along the top.

It was built from golden stone too. The same stone from the cave by the sea had built the church, and the windmills on the hill as well. Now Polly finally understood where all that carved rock had gone.

Down at the port, a fisher sat beside his boat and mended his nets with quick hands. The morning catch shone silver in the sun. Polly called out a cheerful hello and flew on along the water.