“This time the daughter has a baby.”
“You’re not going, are you, Mikko? You can’t always be going to christenings.”
“That’s true, Pekka, that’s true,” said the Fox, “but I think I must go this time.”
The Wolf sighed.
“You will hurry back, won’t you? This work is too much for me alone.”
“Yes, Pekka dear,” the Fox promised, “I’ll hurry back as quickly as I can.”
So he trotted off again to the spring and the Wolf’s butter crock. This time he ate the middle pat of the Wolf’s butter, then slowly sauntered back to the clearing.
“Well,” said the Wolf, pausing a moment in his work, “what did they name the baby this time?”
“This one they named Middle.”
“Middle? That’s a strange name to give a baby!”