Now this the fox lapp'd with his tongue very quick,
While the crane could scarce dip in the point of her beak;
"You make a poor dinner," said he to his guest;
"Oh, dear! by no means," said the bird, "I protest."
But the crane ask'd the fox on a subsequent day,
When nothing, it seems, for their dinner had they
But some minced meat served up in a narrow-neck'd jar;
Too long, and narrow, for Reynard by far.
"You make a poor dinner, I fear," said the bird;
"Why, I think," said the fox, "'twould be very absurd