'And I have no doubt,' continued my brother, whilst we could hardly restrain our mirth, 'but that Zenobia would willingly give them up to you, for the honour of being devoured by so distinguished a personage.'
'Would she really?' he cried, swallowing this piece of flattery as greedily as he would the chickens.
'Oh yes,' I chimed in; 'but there's one thing I would mention. Grandees like you must be formally introduced. Zenobia would be horrified were you to appear before her so unceremoniously; she might even refuse your request for one of the chickens.'
'What shall I do, then?' he eagerly questioned.
'Why, dress yourself of course, appear en grande toilette,' I replied; 'brush up your whiskers a little more, make your coat look glossy, and, above all, put on a pair of gloves!'
'Gloves!' he repeated. 'I have not a single pair; tell me where I can purchase them?'
'Leave that to us,' said my brother, bursting with glee. 'Originally, you must know, we were Fox-glovers, but somehow we have lost our ancient privilege; therefore have the supreme graciousness to restore it to us, and we will be only too proud to serve you.'
'Oh, certainly,' assented the Fox, assuming at once an air of patronage that was highly amusing. 'I take six and three-quarters,' extending his forepad.
'No, surely not!' protested my merry brother; 'you must be mistaken; such a pretty little paw as yours cannot possibly require such a large glove. Allow me to suggest six and a quarter.'
The Fox agreed to the size named.