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THE FOX AND THE STORK

FOX and a Stork one time struck up quite a

friendship; but the Fox never could forget how much smarter he was or how great enmity he felt against most birds, so he was quite willing to amuse himself at the expense of his friend.

Finally he thought of a plan which pleased him so much as he thought it over that he ran his best to invite the Stork to take dinner with him on the morrow. When the Stork came, as she did promptly and willingly, she found that the Fox had prepared a dinner of soup, and had put it in a large, shallow plate, from which he could lap it very nicely, but from which she was unable to get anything, for she could barely wet the tip of her bill in it.

The Stork was rather wise herself, and when she reached home she kept thinking about the treatment

she had received at the hands of Master Fox, and after a long and wakeful night she conceived a plan for revenge. In the morning she called upon the Fox and invited him to take dinner with her in return.

Master Fox arrived on time, still chuckling over the joke he had played on the Stork; but he was surprised and no little disappointed to find that the Stork had provided for the dinner a quantity of fine minced meat, which she had put in the bottom of a vase with a very long neck. She could thrust her bill into this and pick up the meat without trouble; but the Fox could get nothing except the drippings that he licked from the sides of the vessel.

"A fine dinner we have had!" said the Stork. "You need not apologize," replied the Fox.

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THE LION AND THE MOUSE

D Mouse. It is an old, old story, but a lovely

O you know the story of the Lion and the

story, I think. It runs like this:

One day a huge Lion lay sleeping soundly in the shade of a great tree. His strong legs were stretched out limply on the ground, and his shaggy head and powerful jaws looked very beautiful in repose, for the wicked teeth were covered and the fierce eyes closed. Two little Mice, seeing him there, began to play about him, and finally one of them, much braver than the other, ran over the Lion's head, through his tawny mane and beneath his great fore paw.

The Lion's rest was nearly over, and the little feet of the Mouse tickled the huge beast into wakefulness. Opening one eye, he spied the Mouse under his paw, and closed his big toes over his trembling prisoner.

"What are you doing here, you miserable little Mouse?" said the Lion in a terrible roar. "Why do you disturb my noonday nap in the shade? I'll break every bone in your ugly little body."

Down came the big toes, out sprang the awful claws, just as they do on the cat's foot when she dreams of hunting. The Mouse thought surely his last hour had come, and he cried loud as he could in his weak, trembling voice:

"O, Mr. Lion, spare me! Spare me! I didn't mean to disturb you, truly I didn't. You see, I was just playing, and your mane was so soft and beautiful, I couldn't keep out of it, and under your paws was

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just the place to hide, so here I came. I didn't mean any harm-I didn't think you'd care, Mr. Lion. Don't kill me this time. I'll never, never do it again."

"Well, see that you don't," growled the Lion. "Killing you would be small business for me, anyhow.'

It was not many days after this that the Lion, while hunting near by, was caught in a net which some hunters had spread for him. He struggled fiercely and roared in anger, but the more he rolled about and the harder he kicked and pawed, the more closely the net clung to him, till at last, weary with fighting, he lay bound and helpless, an easy prey for the hunters when they should return. The Mouse which the Lion had spared lived in a little

nest of grass not far from where the Lion was caught. He heard the noise of the struggle and sat at home with a beating heart, afraid to venture out of doors while such a furious combat was going on. When the Lion grew quiet, however, the Mouse stole out, and soon saw what was the matter.

"O Mr. Lion," he said, "you are the very Mr. Lion that let me go that other day, aren't you? and now the hunters will kill you if you can't get away, won't they? I'll help you."

"What can you do, you little mite?" growled the Lion. "Better run away yourself, or when the hunters come for me they'll step on you."

"O, I can help. I can gnaw the ropes in two. I'd like to do it," said the Mouse. "Just you keep still till I tell you to move."

So the Mouse began to gnaw on the big ropes. It was a hard task, and his lips grew sore and his sharp teeth ached, but he kept on bravely till one after another the ropes gave way and the King of the Woods was almost free.

"Wait just a few minutes more," said the Mouse as he paused to rest his little jaws. "Don't jump up till I get out of the way. I'll tell you when."

In a little while the last rope was cut in two, and the Mouse, scrambling down from the Lion's big head, called out:

"Now jump up, Mr. Lion; you're free. Aren't you glad you didn't kill me the other day?"

The big fellow stood up on his feet, shook himself a few times, stretched his aching limbs, washed his face and walked away. But just as he was going he looked back over his shoulder and sang out, "Little friends are great friends."

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