“Nephew,” said he, laying his paw on Reynard’s shoulder, “show me the place where that honey is. My mouth is watering at the very thought of it. I love honey better than anything else in the world, and I’d give all I possess for a taste of it!”
“You are joking, no doubt,” said Reynard laughingly. “How can any one like such stuff?”
“Joking, am I?” growled Bruin. “Just lead me to the honey and I’ll show you whether I’m joking. I tell you I’d give my eyes and ears for a taste!”
“Well, if that’s the case,” said Reynard, “you shall be satisfied. There’s a carpenter not far from here who keeps bees, and from time immemorial his family have been noted for the excellence of their honey. I’ll take you there, and I’m very glad to be able to render you this little service. In return, all I ask of you is that you will speak up for me when I come before the King.”
THE POOR BEAST ROARED WITH PAIN
“Of course I will,” answered Bruin. “Let us go at once. I can hardly contain myself for impatience.”
Reynard called upon Bruin to follow him and led the way to the carpenter’s yard. The afternoon was very hot, and the carpenter was taking a nap after dinner. His yard was empty and in the middle of it was the trunk of a great oak-tree which he had laid out ready to be cut up into planks. The trunk was split down the middle, and kept open by two wedges of wood.