“Why, what’s the matter with you, my dear creatures?” said the fox, with a quiet smile, as he came up to the yard, and rested his fore-feet on the paling quite close to the big sow. As the fox spoke and begged them to make less noise, one of the little pigs ran forward, and, sitting down on its haunches, just under the fox’s nose, looked up, and said, in a quick, sharp voice, “Squee-e-k!” Then it paused a little, drew a long breath and cried, passionately, “Squee-e-e-e-e-eal! Go away, bad fox; go, nobody wants you here; squeal!— get along; squeak!—go, I say, go away, eek! squeal!”

“Very pretty indeed,” said the fox, with a savage smile, “ very sweet voice, but a little, just a leetle too—”

“Sque-e-e-e-eal!” interrupted the pig.

“My dear child,” said the fox, “let me speak—”

“Squeal!” “Only listen for a—” “Squeak!” “Pray do wait till I have—” “Squeal!” “My dear pig, just a—” “ Sque-e-e-e-eek!!”

The fox could bear this no longer. With one bound he leaped the fence. The next moment the ducks, and geese, and pigs, and hens, and chickens, were flying in all directions and screaming with terror.