A Fox, having crept into an outhouse, looked up and down for something
to eat, and at last espied a Hen sitting upon a perch so high that he
could be no means come at her. He therefore had recourse to an old
stratagem.
"Dear cousin," said he to her, "how do you do? I heard that you were
ill and kept at home; I could not rest, therefore, till I had come to
see you. Pray let me feel your pulse. Indeed, you do not look well at
all."
He was running on in this impudent manner, when the Hen answered him
from the roost: "Truly, dear Reynard, you are in the right. I was
seldom in more danger than I am now. Pray excuse my coming down; I am
sure I should catch my death."
The Fox, finding himself foiled by the Hen's cleverness, made off and
tried his luck elsewhere.