And they discussed for quite an hour where she would be likely to arrive, but no one could work that out and none of those in the pond ever got to know.
Only the woman who lived by the pond knew. For, when the gull came above the chimney of her little cottage, he gave such a kick with his leg that the cray-fish dropped off. She went right down the woman's chimney; and there stood a pot of boiling water, which she fell into.
"Oh dear!" said the cray-fish. "That was a silly business."
It was so silly that she turned as red as fire all over her body and died then and there. But, when the woman took her pot and was going to make herself a drop of coffee, she stared in amazement at that fine big cray-fish:
"Well, I never!" she said. "Best thanks to whoever sent you."
Then she ate her.
That same evening, the May-fly broke through her cocoon.
She flew up, on tiny little thin, transparent wings and with three long threads hanging from her abdomen to help her keep her balance.
"I say, isn't this lovely?" she cried. "How delicious life is! It's worth while living for ever so many days as a poor grub, if only one is permitted to gaze upon this splendour for an hour."