“Don’t know?” it answered. “Well! well! You’ll have to dig. Get a fork and dig. Well! well! best to know nothing than to know too much.”
Rosalie went as she was told, and brought the big fork she had noticed. It certainly was very big, and looked aggressive.
“Do you mean this?” she asked.
“What else should I mean? Now then, set to work. The quicker you begin, the quicker you’ll finish.”
“But—but what must I do with it?”
“Grasp it in both hands. Stick it in the ground, and push it in with your foot. Well! well! the sooner you learn, the sooner you’ll know.”
“I won’t!” said Rosalie. “It’s a man’s work; why, it’s digging. I know I was never intended to do that.”
The frog, by way of showing its disgust, gave a contemptuous croak.
“Man’s work? It isn’t the work most men would thank you for giving them. Even as far back as the days of Divine Inspiration mankind was ashamed of it. It’s woman’s work! What man won’t do always falls to the woman.”
“But women never dig in our country,” said Rosalie, still bent on the argument.