"Ho, whoo!" says the owl, "I have heard that the English are toad-eaters
too!"

"But who ever heard of them eating an owl or a fox, madam?" says
Reynard, "or their sitting down and taking a crow to pick?" adds the
polite rogue, with a bow to the old crow who was perched above them with
the cheese in his mouth. "We are privileged animals, all of us; at least,
we never furnish dishes for the odious orgies of man."

"I am the bird of wisdom," says the owl; "I was the companion of Pallas
Minerva: I am frequently represented in the Egyptian monuments."

"I have seen you over the British barn-doors," said the fox, with a grin.
"You have a deal of scholarship, Mrs. Owl. I know a thing or two myself;
but am, I confess it, no scholar--a mere man of the world--a fellow that
lives by his wits--a mere country gentleman."

"You sneer at scholarship," continues the owl, with a sneer on her
venerable face. "I read a good deal of a night."

"When I am engaged deciphering the cocks and hens at roost," says the
fox.

"It's a pity for all that you can't read; that board nailed over my head
would give you some information."

"What does it say?" says the fox.

"I can't spell in the daylight," answered the owl; and, giving a yawn,