“Yes,” said the Great Red Fox, “that is good; but soft talking makes them none the easier to lie upon. Could you not spare me a few of your feathers?”
“A few feathers indeed!” said the Grey Goose, “it was not for this that I left the ways of the world over yonder. If you must have feathers you must pluck them from your own back.”
“Prut!” said the Great Red Fox, “how you speak! A wife should do all that she can to make the world soft for her husband.”
Then you should have heard the Grey Goose talk and talk. But it was no use; when times are hard with one, one’s wife should help to feather the nest—that was what the Great Red Fox said.
Snip! snap! crunch! cranch! and off went the Grey Goose’s head. After that the Fox ate her up, body and bones, and there was an end of her. Then he lay upon soft feathers and slept easily.
Now this is true that I tell you: when a great red fox and a grey goose marry, and hard times come, one must make it soft for the other—mostly it is the grey goose who does that.
Also I would have you listen to this: some folks say that it is not so, but I tell you that the ways of the world are the ways of the world, even in the deep forest.
Five O’clock·