The Wolf greeted her, and said—
‘Good-day, Miss Cat, of sprightly wit,
How comes it that alone you sit?
What are you making there, so good?’
The Cat answered—
‘Tumbling milk and butter up.
Will your Lordship have a sup?’
‘Thank you kindly, Mistress Cat. Mistress Reynard is not at home, I suppose.’
‘Upstairs in her chamber she sits,
And weeps as her sorrow befits.
Her sad case she doth much deplore,
Because Mr. Reynard’s no more.’
The Wolf answered—
‘“If now she wants to wed again,
She must come down the stairs, ’tis plain.”
The Cat ran up without delay,
Nor did her claws their clatter stay
Until she reached the long saloon.
There, tapping with her five gold rings,
“Is Mrs. Reynard in?” she sings.
“If now she wants to wed again,
She must come down the stairs, ’tis plain.”’
Mrs. Reynard asked: ‘Does the gentleman wear red breeches, and has he a pointed muzzle?’
‘No,’ answered the Cat.