TheFoxandtheCrow

　　AFoxoncesawaCrowflyoffwithapieceofcheeseinitsbeakandsettleonabranchofatree.‘That’sforme,asIamaFox,’saidMasterReynard,andhewalkeduptothefootofthetree.‘Good-day,MistressCrow,’hecried.‘Howwellyouarelookingto-day:howglossyyourfeathers;howbrightyoureye.Ifeelsureyourvoicemustsurpassthatofotherbirds,justasyourfiguredoes;letmehearbutonesongfromyouthatImaygreetyouastheQueenofBirds.’TheCrowliftedupherheadandbegantocawherbest,butthemomentsheopenedhermouththepieceofcheesefelltotheground,onlytobesnappedupbyMasterFox.‘Thatwilldo,’saidhe.‘ThatwasallIwanted.InexchangeforyourcheeseIwillgiveyouapieceofadviceforthefuture.’Donottrustflatterers.’