'Oh, has he?' I remarked; and then I thought to myself, 'Now can your
craftiness be seen through: you are after Zenobia; but Susie saved our
lives, she shall not find the poor despised Fox-gloves ungrateful. We
will save Zenobia!'

However, Mr. Reynard had not guessed our thoughts (for we all thought
alike on the subject), but continued,--

'Now, charming friends, I know you have a most delightful hen in this
garden.'

'Oh yes, and nine such plump chickens!' cried my brother.

'Oh dear, how very nice!' exclaimed the Fox.

'And I have no doubt,' continued my brother, whilst we could hardly
restrain our mirth, 'but that Zenobia would willingly give them up to
you, for the honour of being devoured by so distinguished a personage.'

'Would she really?' he cried, swallowing this piece of flattery as
greedily as he would the chickens.

'Oh yes,' I chimed in; 'but there's one thing I would mention. Grandees
like you must be formally introduced. Zenobia would be horrified were
you to appear before her so unceremoniously; she might even refuse your
request for one of the chickens.'

'What shall I do, then?' he eagerly questioned.

'Why, dress yourself of course, appear _en grande toilette_,' I replied;
'brush up your whiskers a little more, make your coat look glossy, and,
above all, put on a pair of gloves!'

'Gloves!' he repeated. 'I have not a single pair; tell me where I can
purchase them?'

'Leave that to us,' said my brother, bursting with glee. 'Originally,
you must know, we were Fox-glovers, but somehow we have lost our ancient
privilege; therefore have the supreme graciousness to restore it to us,
and we will be only too proud to serve you.'

'Oh, certainly,' assented the Fox, assuming at once an air of patronage
that was highly amusing. 'I take six and three-quarters,' extending his
forepad.

'No, surely not!' protested my merry brother; 'you must be mistaken;
such a pretty little paw as yours cannot possibly require such a large
glove. Allow me to suggest six and a quarter.'

The Fox agreed to the size named.

'If you will condescend to call here to-morrow night about this time,
they shall be ready for you,' one of us declared.

'Thank you,' he said loftily, as though he was conferring a favour upon
us, and off he went, no doubt congratulating himself on his diplomacy.
As to us, we laughed heartily, knowing how the crafty old fellow would
be caught in his own toils.

The next day, when we saw Su