Away went the wolf and spent a second satisfying day with the barrel of grease. When he returned the dog asked him the name of the child.
“Half-Done,” said the wolf.
“Bah!” cried the dog, “that is an even sillier name than the other. I can’t think what parents are coming to—in my time plain Jean or Jacques was good enough for anybody.”
The wolf made no reply, being in fact fast asleep, for he had dined very well, and was drowsy. A day or two afterwards however, he played the same trick again, and devoured the last of the fat in the barrel. This time, when asked the name of the child to whom he had stood godfather, he answered: “All-done.”
“WHERE HAS ALL OUR GREASE GONE?”
The dog had no suspicion of the way he had been deceived, and all went well until the winter came and food became difficult to procure. Then one day the dog said: “It seems to me that the time has come to tap our barrel of grease. What do you say, friend? Weren’t we wise to put it away for a time like this!”
“I believe you,” answered the wolf.
“Come then, let us go to the cellar and enjoy the fruits of our prudence.”