_The lazy do not deserve to be fed by the industrious. Every one
should contribute his share._
Once there lived a frog, a cat and a little red hen in a tiny
house. The frog was so lazy that he would not even jump to catch
a fly; the cat was too lazy to catch a mouse that ran across her
tail. The little red hen had to do all the work.
One morning the little red hen said: “Who will build the fire?”
“Not I,” said the frog. “Not I,” said the cat. “Then I will,” said
the little red hen, and she built the fire.
“Who will make the bread?” said the little red hen. “Not I,” said
the frog. “Not I,” said the cat. “Then I will,” said the little red
hen, and she made the bread.
“Who will lay the table?” said the little red hen. “Not I,” said
the frog. “Not I,” said the cat. “Then I will,” said the little
red hen, and she laid the table.
Then the frog and cat got up on their chairs, took up their knives
and forks, and made ready to eat breakfast. “Who will eat this
bread?” said the little red hen. “I will,” said the frog. “I will,”
said the cat. “No, you will not,” said the little red hen. “I will
eat it myself.” And the little red hen grabbed the bread and flew
down the road until she came to a pasture.
She sat down and began to eat. An old fox was hungry that morning
and had not provided for his family. He came down the road looking
for a rabbit. “I smell fresh bread,” said he, and began to sniff.
“I smell a little red hen,” and he sniffed once more.
The old fox crept up behind the little red hen and grabbed her by
the tail feathers, and before she could get loose he put her into
his bag, threw the bag over his shoulders and started home. “We
shall have little red hen for breakfast,” said he.
It was very close in the bag, which was a thick meal bag, and the
bits of meal made the little red hen sneeze. Then she felt for her
handkerchief to wipe her eyes and nose, and her scissors fell out
of her pocket.
“That’s good luck!” said the little red hen, and at once she slit a
hole in the bag with the scissors big enough for her to get out.
She jumped out as they were passing a stony place and quickly put a
rock in the bag to make the fox think that he still had the little
red hen. The old fox reached home and threw the bag on the floor.
“Now for a nice breakfast,” said he, and opened the bag. When he
saw the stone he was much astonished.
“I certainly thought it was the little red hen I had in the bag,”
said he, and scratched his ear with his hind foot, which is a way
the old fox did when he could not understand.