“I dare you to touch me!” replied the He-goat. “You are not a Wolf; you are a Roman.”
“Roman here or Roman there,” retorted the Wolf, “I shall dine on you to-day.”
“What must be, must,” replied the He-goat; “but since you are bound to eat me, just grant me life till the woods are green again.”
The Wolf was beguiled, and on he went till he met the Sow. “Listen to me, Gruntelind,” said he; “I am going to make short work with you now.”
“You daren’t do it,” replied the Sow. “You are no Wolf; you are a noble Roman.”
“Roman here or Roman there,” said the Wolf, “I am bound to eat you.”
“Very well,” replied the Sow; “since you insist, come another day, when I am fatter.”
The Wolf consented, and away he went to look for that Mare again.
“Listen now, Skinny-bones,” said he; “you are to die on the spot.”
“If your mind is really made up,” replied the Mare, “I have nothing to say; but first look at my left hind hoof, for my master had me shod the other day, and the smith marked my age upon the horseshoe. Read how old I am, and then you will be able to boast what an old Mare you have eaten.”