A certain Cockatrice, feeling sociably inclined, entered a Mother's Meeting, bent upon making himself agreeable—but was greatly mortified to find himself but coldly received.
"Women are so particular about trifles!" he reflected bitterly. "I know I said 'Good Afternoon' with my mouth full—but, as I explained, I had just been lunching at the Infant School!"
"I want to be useful!" said the Silkworm, as she sat down and "set" a sock for a Decayed Centipede.
A Traveller demanded hospitality from fourteen Kurds, who were occupying one small tent.
"Enter freely," said the Kurds, "but we must warn thee that thou wilt find the atmosphere exceedingly unpleasant—for, by some inadvertence, we have greased our boots from a jar of Attar of Roses!"
Note.—Once more I do not entirely fathom the Fabulist's meaning—unless it is that such a valuable cosmetic as Attar of Roses may become so deteriorated as to offend even the nostril organ of a Kurd.—H. B. J.
A certain Basilisk having attained great success in petrifying all who came under his personal observation, there was a Scheme set afoot to present him with some Token of popular esteem and regard.