“You’re a terrible woman,” said the mouse. “I prophesy you’ll end by going childless to your grave.”
For the first time, the spider seemed a little pensive.
“Now her hard heart is melting,” said the mouse.
“Oh!” said the wild parsley.
“Ah!” said the goat’s-foot.
“Stuff!” said the spider.
But she continued to look pensive and stared at her combs and never noticed that a fly flew into her web. Presently, she said:
“The fact is, one ought at least to see that one brings a pair of strapping wenches into the world. I suppose it’s my duty to leave somebody behind me to inherit my contempt for those wretched men.”
“She’s on the road!” whispered the mouse.
And the goat’s-foot and the fool’s-parsley nodded and neither of them said a word, so as not to disturb her in her reflections.