“Let him burrow in the ground that pleases,” said the parsley.
“We have loftier aims,” said the goat’s-foot.
Then they stood a bit and said nothing. And then the parsley sighed and said what they were both thinking.
“If only a bird would come and build her nest in us!”
“We would shade it and rock it and take such care of it that the real bushes would die of envy,” said the goat’s-foot.
“Won’t you have me?” asked a voice.
A queer, gray individual came walking up the hedge.
“Who are you?” asked the parsley.
“I am the spider,” said the individual.
“Can you fly?” asked the goat’s-foot.