Then the first tree said: “Ah, she ought to go and ask the fox for some pretty clothes to wear. The fox always keeps a great store of pretty things in her hole.”
Alma had listened to every word of this conversation. She remembered that a fox lived on the hillside not far off; for she had often seen it sitting in the sunshine, with its little ones playing round it and pulling their mother’s tail in fun.
So Alma got up, and ran till she found the hole, and putting her head down it, she cried out: “Fox! Fox!”
But the fox seemed cross, and only answered, without coming out, “Go away, Alma, and talk to little Niebla. I am busy getting dinner for my children, and have no time to talk to you now.”
Then Alma cried: “Oh, Fox, Niebla will not play with me because I have no pretty things to wear! Oh, Fox, will you give me a nice dress, and shoes and stockings, and a string of beads?”
After a little while the fox came out of its hole with a big bundle done up in a red cotton handkerchief, and said: “Here are the things, Alma, and I hope they will fit you. But, you know, Alma, you really ought not to come at this time of day, for I am very busy just now cooking the dinner—an armadillo roasted and a couple of partridges stewed with rice, and a little omelette of turkeys’ eggs—I mean plovers’ eggs, of course; I never touch turkeys’ eggs.”
Alma said she was very sorry to give so much trouble.
“Oh, never mind,” said the fox. “How is your grandmother?”
“She is very well, thank you,” said Alma, “but she has a bad headache.”
“I am very sorry to hear it,” said the fox. “Tell her to stick two fresh dock-leaves on her temples, and on no account to go out in the hot sun. Give her my best respects. And now, run home, Alma, and try on the things, and when you are passing this way, you can bring me back the handkerchief, as I always tie my face up in it when I have the toothache.”