Once a wolf was lapping at a spring on a hillside, then search, what should he see but a Lamb just beginning to drink a little lower.

Once a wolf was lapping at a spring on a hillside, then search, what should he see but a Lamb just beginning to drink a little lower. “There’s my supper,” he said, “if only I could find a pretext to seize it.” Then he shouted to the Lamb, “How dare you muddle the water from which I drink?”

“No, sir,” I said, lambikins said, “If the water is muddy up there, it can be the cause of it because it brings to me.”

“Well,” said Wolf, “Why do you call me bad names this time last year?”

“This can not be,” said Lamb, “I am only six months.”

“I do not care,” snarled the Wolf, “if it is yours, your father, ‘and that he immediately rushed to the lamb and ate it all. But before she died she gasped out.

“No excuse for acting the tyrant.”

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