An’ de ole king wept an cried bitterly when he seed dis robe he had on, fur he think’d his deah child wur dead.
‘Could I have a word wi’ you, my noble leech?’ says de little fox. ‘Could you call a party dis afternoon up at your hall?’
He says, ‘What fur, my little fox?’
‘Well, ef you call a party, I’ll tell you whose robe dat is, but you mus’ let my mammy come as well.’
‘No, no, my little fox; I couldn’t have youah mammy to come.’
Well, de ole king agreed, an’ de little fox tell’d him, ‘Now deah mus’ be tales to be tell’d, an’ songs to be sing’d, an’ dem as don’t sing a song hez to tell a tale. An’ after we have dinner let’s go an’ walk about in de garden. But you mus’ ’quaint as many ladies an’ genlemen as you can to dis party, an’ be shuah to bring de ole lady what live at de lodge.’
Well, dis dinner was called, an’ dey all had ’nuff to eat; [[204]]an’ after dat wur ovah, de noble leech stood up in de middlt an’ called for a song or tale. Deah wus all songs sing’t and tales tell’t, tell it camed to dis young lady’s tu’n. An’ she says, ‘I can’t sing a song or tell a tale, but my little fox can.’
‘Pooydorda!’ says de ole witch, ‘tu’n out de little fox, he stinks.’
But dey all called an de little fox, an’ he stoods up an’ says, ‘Once ont a time,’ he says, ‘deah wuz an ole-fashn’t king an’ queen lived togeder; an’ dey only had one darter, an’ dey stored dis darter like de eyes into deir head, an’ dey ’ardly would let de wint blow an her.’
‘Pooydorda!’ says de old witch, ‘tu’n out de little fox, it stinks.’