A long, long time ago when there were more foxes’ dens than cats’
cradles, there lived a very sly fox. Every evening this sly fox sneaked
up through the tall grass and weeds and around the tree-trunks, pounced
upon a plump young goose, and carried it off to his den.
First, he had one hidden away, then two, then three, then four, then
five, then six, and by and by as many more.
Well, when he had a round dozen, he called them before him in a circle,
fixed them with his bold sharp eyes, and said, “My dumplings, prepare to
die. At moonlight, to-night, I dine on young goose.”
“You’ll surely give us time to say good-by,” cried the poor simpletons,
who suddenly turned clever to save their necks. “We have become the
dearest of friends.”
“With all my heart,” said the fox, with a bow. “Take as much time as you
like, my dainties, for the sweet parting.” And off he went.
One silly goose began to giggle at their cleverness before he was out of
earshot. But her sisters ran at her and pecked her into silence. They
laughed with their eyes only, and so long as the fox kept walking away
and not looking back that was perfectly safe.
Well, at moonlight, sure enough, the fox came home to dine. And at once
the geese began to say good-by.
“Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-” said one. And when he stopped for breath,
“Ga-ga-ga-ga-” said another. And, when he stopped, another took it up.
And after that, another and another.
So, for all I know, they are at it still. The fox has not yet dined,
and the geese are alive and gabbling, though, as the story says at the
beginning, it all happened a very long time ago, before any of us were
born.
—ANGELA M. KEYES