The little Red Hen was just coming out of
her door to pick up a few sticks for kindling
wood. So the old Fox hid behind the wood-
pile, and as soon as she bent down to get a
stick, into the house he slipped, and scurried
behind the door.
In a minute the little Red Hen came
quickly in, and shut the door and locked
it. "I'm glad I'm safely in," she said.
Just as she said it, she turned round, and
there stood the ugly old Fox, with his big
bag over his shoulder. Whiff! how scared
the little Red Hen was! She dropped her
apronful of sticks, and flew up to the big
beam across the ceiling. There she perched,
and she said to the old Fox, down below,
"You may as well go home, for you can't
get me."
"Can't I, though!" said the Fox. And
what do you think he did? He stood on
the floor underneath the little Red Hen
and twirled round in a circle after his own
tail. And as he spun, and spun, and spun,
faster, and faster, and faster, the poor little
Red Hen got so dizzy watching him that
she couldn't hold on to the perch. She
dropped off, and the old Fox picked her up
and put her in his bag, slung the bag over
his shoulder, and started for home, where
the kettle was boiling.
He had a very long way to go, up hill,
and the little Red Hen was still so dizzy
that she didn't know where she was.
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