"Hurrah!" cried everybody at once. "Hurrah for little Sir Bevis!"
"Now," said Bevis, "I see the owl wants to speak, and as he's the only sensible one among you, just be quiet and hear what he's got to say."
At this the owl, immensely delighted, made Sir Bevis a profound bow, and begged to observe that one thing seemed to have escaped the notice of the ladies and gentlemen whom he saw around him. It was true they were all of noble blood, and many of them could claim a descent through countless generations. But they had overlooked the fact that, noble as they were, there was among them one with still higher claims; one who had royal blood in his veins, whose ancestors had been kings, and kings of high renown. He alluded to the fox.
At this the fox, who had not hitherto spoken, and kept rather in the background, modestly bent his head, and looked the other way.
"The fox," cried Tchink, "impossible—he's nobody."
"Certainly not," said Te-te, "a mere nonentity."
"Quite out of the question," said the goldfinch.
"Out of the running," said the hare.
"Absurd," said the jay; and they all raised a clamour, protesting that even to mention the fox was to waste the public time.
"I am not so sure of that," muttered Cloctaw. "We might do worse; I should not object." But his remark was unheeded by all save the fox, whose quick ear caught it.