"We shall leave in the autumn," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler, "for Italy. But you have no wings, Goody Cray-Fish, so I don't see how you can go."
"That's just it. If one had wings, one would soon be off. But they might be in one's way in the water. However, there are other people who travel, though they have no wings. What about the eel, ma'am, for instance?"
"Yes ... the eel," said Mrs. Reed-Warbler. "He can wriggle and twist. You can't, you see."
"No," replied the cray-fish looking very sadly out of her stalked eyes. "I can't do that at all. Because of my stiff shirt, you know. Though I may be thankful for it, too, or I should have been done for long ago."
"What do you propose, then?"
The cray-fish crawled right under the reeds, where the nest hung, and asked, in a low whisper:
"What do you think of the mussel, ma'am?"
"The mussel?"
"Yes, the mussel. You see, I sit here in the mud and hear such a lot of things and turn them over in my mind. And I heard the story with which the mussel was diverting you and Mr. Reed-Warbler the other day. Do you think it's to be depended on?"
"Of course I do."