'Well, since we do not keep that article here, you had better seek it elsewhere,' interposed a brother of mine who is rather saucy.
The Fox paused for a moment, as if hesitating what to say; at length he began, in a whining tone of voice,—
'My beloved friends, I perceive I must take you into my confidence. The fact is, my worthy doctor says I am in delicate health, and has therefore directed me'—
'Well,' I said, seeing that he hesitated; 'what of that?'
'Simply this; he has ordered me to eat only light, digestible food, such as chicken,' he went on to say.
'Oh, has he?' I remarked; and then I thought to myself, 'Now can your craftiness be seen through: you are after Zenobia; but Susie saved our lives, she shall not find the poor despised Fox-gloves ungrateful. We will save Zenobia!'
However, Mr. Reynard had not guessed our thoughts (for we all thought alike on the subject), but continued,—
'Now, charming friends, I know you have a most delightful hen in this garden.'
'Oh yes, and nine such plump chickens!' cried my brother.
'Oh dear, how very nice!' exclaimed the Fox.