“This is my thousandth birthday, and I want my nine tails of gold,” whined the fox.
“You are a blithering old bother,” roared the dragon. “You don’t know what you want and you don’t want anything after you get it. Well, this is your last visit to me. Don’t let me ever see you again.” With another snort it raised its forked tail all covered with silver scales high above its head, opened its huge mouth and yawned furiously.
Then it slowly wriggled back into its dark bed, and standing without was a fox with nine big, bright, glittering, golden tails. Never, never had such a thing been seen by man or beast!
Even the fox was stunned for a moment when he found what had happened to him. Then he puffed out with pride until he almost burst, and held his head so high that he nearly fell over backward. He stood alone—the wonder of the whole world!
His first thought was to run and show himself to all the animals of the forest. And he started to skip joyfully away, but alas! he was as one rooted to the spot. Now he found to his horror that his golden tails were so heavy he could not walk, much less run. He had never thought about this, and he stood trembling in his tracks, wondering just what he would do about it. Besides, although he knew they must be very beautiful, he could only twist his head far enough around to see the tip end of one of them, and he wanted so to see them all and know how very grand he really did look.
He kept lifting up first one foot and then another, and straining and tugging in his struggle to trot off and let himself be seen. But never again would he be able to run through the cool weeds and leap over the streams and roll in the soft moss and kick up his heels in rustling beds of leaves, for nine tails of gold were an awful load to carry. As he grew more used to them he found he could manage to totter along with slow and painful steps, but it was very hard work. But when he thought of what the other poor animals would think and say when they beheld him in all his glory he again puffed out with pride.
After all, if he couldn’t get about very well now, he would have all of them to wait upon him, so it didn’t much matter. All he need do was to stand up and be admired. It is true he wasn’t a bit comfortable, for the tails were like lead, and already his poor back was aching, but still one would be willing to have back-ache to be the most splendid creature on earth. There never had been, there never again would be anything like him. He was the one superb ornament of the world. He kept repeating this to himself with much satisfaction. And if he couldn’t walk, he could ride in the future on the backs of his adoring slaves and perhaps that was better.
As the fox strutted feebly and slowly through the leaves and over the dewy grass where he had once scampered and frolicked, suddenly he saw a procession of all the creatures of the wood, with the monkey ahead, coming to meet him, for they were very curious to know if he would get his golden tails. He stopped and stood silent and haughty, waiting for them. They gathered around him, but said never a word. And so he cried out shrilly:
“Behold your King! I am the most wonderful animal in all the world. Never again on land or on sea will there be bird or beast or fish or fowl that can compare with me. Stupid things that you are, fall down and worship me.”
Now, what the animals saw was not anything beautiful or wonderful, but just the same old gray fox, with his back bald in patches, his legs trembling and his body twisted crooked by the weight of nine stiff yellow tails that stuck out behind him. And the more they looked at him the funnier figure he cut. As he ended his proud speech he tried to spread his magnificent tails and strut as he had seen the peacock do, but he toppled over backward and kicked and squirmed in his efforts to get on his feet again.