“Ah me!” said the rabbit, “what strange creatures men are! That stupid farmer is running after a fox which he will never catch, and the only thing he is sure to catch is a bad cold. Well, well; if it was for some great prize one would not wonder, but when it’s only for a grey goose and a black duck—ah!—” The rabbit could not find words to express her feelings, so she laid her ears down flat and went to sleep.

Meanwhile the fox got far ahead of John, and John began to pant for breath. Then both of his slippers fell off; then the head flew off the broom, and the spectacles fell from his nose. “Ho dear!” gasped John. As he said this the strings of his night-cap broke and it flew off. Then he dropt the horn, and, last of all, he tripped over a stone; rolled like a tub down the hill, and fell headlong into a ditch where his nose poked a deep hole in the mud. Of course it was of no use to chase the fox any longer. Indeed, John could not run another step, so he gathered himself up and returned slowly home to console his poor wife.