The Crow, tickled with the very civil language of the Fox, nestled and wriggled about, and hardly knew where she was.
It was so uncouth a sight for a Fox to appear without this distinguishing ornament of his race, that the very thought of it made him weary of his life.
‘You've a pretty Long Beak of your own, which is a Decided Advantage,’ said the Fox. ‘But it is Such a funny vessel, I can't Get my beak in,’ said the Stork.
When the old woman saw the other wee bannock running away she ran after it, but she could not catch it.