A Crow having taken a piece of meat out of a cottage window, flew
up into a tree with it; which a Fox observing, came underneath, and
began to compliment the Crow upon her beauty. I protest, says he, your
feathers are of a more delicate white than I ever saw in my life! Ah!
what a fine shape and graceful turn of body is there! and I make no
question but you have a tolerable voice: if it be but as fine as your
complexion, I do not know a bird that can stand in competition with
you. The Crow, tickled with this very civil language, wriggled about,
and hardly knew where she was; and having a mind to convince the Fox
in the matter of her voice, attempted to sing, and in the same instant
let the meat drop out of her mouth. This being what the Fox wanted,
he chopped it up in a moment, and trotted away, laughing at the easy
credulity of the Crow.