The old wolf sat down at the foot of the tree, and the pig sat up among the branches crunching apples and smacking his lips.
“Are they good?” asked the wolf looking up; and his mouth watered.
Yes, they were very good.
“Could you not throw one down to me?”
Yes, the little pig could do that.
He picked the biggest, reddest apple he could, and then he threw it, but he threw it far off, and in such a way that it went bounding and rolling down the hill slope. The wolf bounded down the hill after it, and while he was catching it, the little pig climbed down the tree and ran safely home with his basketful of apples.
When the old wolf found the pig had tricked him again he was very angry. He was more determined than ever that he would catch the little pig. He trotted off to the little red house and knocked at the door.
“Did you get all the apples you wanted?” asked the wolf.
Yes, the little pig had all he wanted, and he was very much obliged to the wolf for telling him about the orchard.
“Listen, Piggy, there’s to be a fine fair over in the town to-morrow,” said the wolf. “Wouldn’t you like to go?”