"To the city?" exclaimed Mr. Snail. "What do you propose to do there?"
"I want to see my brother, who is sick in the menagerie. He has written me to come to him."
"That is very queer," said Mr. Snail. "I am going to the city also."
"Bosh!" exclaimed Brother Wolf, contemptuously. "Hens will have teeth and sows side-pockets before you get there."
Mr. Snail felt himself somewhat insulted at Brother Wolf's remark, and replied:
"I do not know how long it takes a hen to have teeth; but one thing I do know, and that is, that I will arrive in the city before you do."
"You have no legs, and you carry your house on your back," said Brother Wolf; "how will you manage to get there?"
"Don't trouble about that," said Mr. Snail. "My house is mine, and I do not need legs. I will be in the city before you."
"You make me very tired with your talk," said Brother Wolf. "If you are not joking, let us wager a breakfast that you do not get there first—that is, if you are not joking."
"Very well, then," said Mr. Snail, "let it be a breakfast. I even give you three jumps in advance, and after that you may gallop."