"Well, lead the way, and I'll follow," said Puss.
"At last the fox got home to his den;
To his dear little foxes, eight, nine, ten,
Says he, 'you're in luck, here's a good fat duck,
With her legs hanging dangling down.'"
"This is Puss in Boots, Junior," he said, turning to his good wife, Mrs. Fox. "He has carried the duck for me, for I have a big fat goose."
Then Mrs. Fox asked Puss to sit down and rest while she cooked the supper, and the little foxes begged him to tell them a story.
"What kind of a story do you like?" asked Puss.
"Tell them how I crept into the hen-house and got away from old Mr. Slipper-Slopper," said Mr. Fox. "You keep them quiet and I'll pluck off the feathers while Mrs. Fox heats the oven. Then we'll lose no time in roasting the duck."
"All right," replied Puss, "I'll tell them about it," and as soon as Mr. Fox went out of the room Puss commenced.
"Your father and I crept softly into the barnyard and then your daddy tiptoed into the hen-house and said to Madam Goose: 'By your leave, I'll take you away and carry you home to my den Oh!' I'm not quite sure whether he or Madam Goose said 'Oh!' but that doesn't make any difference."
"I think it must have been Madam Goose," said a little fox. "I think she was frightened."