THE Fox and the Stork were on what seemed to be friendly terms. The
Fox invited the Stork to a dinner for which nothing was provided but a
soup, which was served on a wide, shallow dish.
The Fox presided at the feast with great dignity, and, as if to set
his friend an example, proceeded to lap the soup. This _he_ could do
with the greatest ease; but the Stork, who could only dip the tip of
his bill in the dish and get the tempting odor, fared badly. He praised
the dinner, but soon took leave, saying to his friend that he should do
himself the honor to return the compliment.
This he did in a few days, but ordered that nothing be brought to the
table but some minced meat in a glass jar, the neck of which was so
narrow and deep that, though he himself could eat very well, the Fox
could not reach it, and so could only lick the brim for the bits that
clung to it.
Reynard could not conceal his vexation, but was obliged to own that he
had been rightly used.
They who practice cunning must expect to suffer by it, and he laughs
best who laughs last.