'But I have no knife,' answered the fox. 'You will have to come down
yourself, and we will carry it up between us.'

'And how am I to come down?' inquired the wolf.

'Oh, you are really very stupid! Get into the other bucket that is
nearly over your head.'

The wolf looked up, and saw the bucket hanging there, and with some
difficulty he climbed into it. As he weighed at least four times as
much as the fox the bucket went down with a jerk, and the other bucket,
in which the fox was seated, came to the surface.

As soon as he understood what was happening, the wolf began to speak
like an angry wolf, but was a little comforted when he remembered that
the cheese still remained to him.

'But where is the cheese?' he asked of the fox, who in her turn was
leaning over the parapet watching his proceedings with a smile.

'The cheese?' answered the fox; 'why I am taking it home to my babies,
who are too young to get food for themselves.'

'Ah, traitor!' cried the wolf, howling with rage. But the fox was not
there to hear this insult, for she had gone off to a neighbouring
fowl-house, where she had noticed some fat young chickens the day
before.

'Perhaps I did treat him rather badly,' she said to herself. 'But it
seems getting cloudy, and if there should be heavy rain the other