One after the other, they set out a-wooing and they all fared badly.
The first was a dashing fellow, who had chaffed the unfortunate suitor mercilessly for promising her the five flies which he had got spun up at home in his web:
“Women don’t care a hang for promises,” he said. “They like their presents down, then and there. You just watch me.”
He came dragging a splendid blue-bottle along and laid it without a word at the damsel’s feet.
“Do you think I would allow a man to support me?” she said.
Before he could look round, she had caught him and eaten him up. She scornfully let the fly be, but, later in the afternoon, when she thought no one saw her, she came down notwithstanding and ate it.
And the wooers that came after fared not a whit better.
She ate six of them in the middle of their speech and two had not even time to open their mouths. One was caught by the starling, just as he was about to make his bow, and one fell into the ditch with fright, when she looked at him, and was drowned.
“That makes twelve,” said the mouse.
“I have not counted them,” said the spider. “But now I presume they’ll leave me in peace.”