“They flew into the wood when the trees were cut down,” said the goat’s-foot.
“Yes, it’s dull here,” said the long twigs on the stubs. “One never hears a note.”
“It’s all right here,” said the spider. “As long as the flies buzz, I’m content.”
“Here we are!” said the goat’s-foot and the parsley, straightening themselves.
The spider crawled about and looked around her and the mouse kept on following her with her eyes:
“I beg your pardon,” said she. “But why do you build a nest when you leave your eggs to shift for themselves?”
“Listen to me, Mousie,” said the spider. “You may as well look upon me from the start as an independent woman. I think only of myself and my belongings and I look after myself. If I ever condescend to take a husband, the milksop will have to look after himself.”
“Lord, how you speak of him!” said the mouse. “My husband is bigger and stronger than I am.”
“I have never met him,” replied the spider, carelessly. “The men in my family are scarce a quarter as large as I am. Wretched creatures, not worth a fly. I should be ashamed to share my flat with a customer like one of those. But now I’m going to build.”
“You had better wait till it’s light,” said the parsley.