Tim looked at himself in the looking-glass and saw that his handsome plaid trousers were no longer fit for him to wear. They were well up to his knees, and so snugly did they fit him he could not bend, let alone walk.
It took some time to get out of them, but when he did he took them over to Mr. Fox’s house and showed him the remains of what had once been his plaid trousers.
“It did not work right. That is all I can say,” said Mr. Fox, trying hard to look sad. “You never can tell about those recipes you read in papers and magazines until you have tried them.”
“I wish some one else had tried it first,” said Tim, with a sigh, as he looked at his trousers.
“I might have worn a long-tailed coat and covered up the paint spot, but there is nothing I can do with these short legs.”
“You could wear a skirt or put some lace on the bottom of the legs,” suggested Mr. Fox.
“Are you sure the water had to boil?” asked Tim.
“Sure as I am that the sun will shine!” replied Mr. Fox. “Are you sure, Tim, those trousers are all wool?”
“I thought they were,” said Tim.
“I know they are,” said Mr. Fox, looking after Tim down the path.