“You like your wife for the first while,” said the spider, “and after that you hate her.” “If I had the first while I’d chance the second while,” replied the ass. “It’s bachelor’s talk,” said the spider; “all the same, we can’t keep away from them,” and so saying he began to move all his legs at once in the direction of the wall. “You can only die once,” said he. “If your wife was an ass she wouldn’t eat you,” said the ass. “She’d be doing something else then,” replied the spider, and he climbed up the wall. The first man came back with the can of water and they sat down on the grass and ate the cake and drank the water. All the time the woman kept her eyes fixed on the Philosopher. “Mister Honey,” said she, “I think you met us just at the right moment.” The other two men sat upright and looked at each other and then with equal intentness they looked at the woman. “Why do you say that?” said the Philosopher. “We were having a great argument along the road, and if we were to be talking from now to the day of doom that argument would never be finished.” “It must have been a great argument. Was it about predestination or where consciousness comes from?” “It was not; it was which of these two men was to marry me.” “That’s not a great argument,” said the Philosopher. “Isn’t it,” said the woman. “For seven days and six nights we didn’t talk about anything else, and that’s a great argument or I’d like to know what is.” “But where is the trouble, ma’am?” said the Philosopher. “It’s this,” she replied, “that I can’t make up my mind which of the men I’ll take, for I like one as well as the other and better, and I’d as soon have one as the other and rather.” “It’s a hard case,” said the Philosopher. “It is,” said the woman, “and I’m sick and sorry with the trouble of it.” “And why did you say that I had come up in a good minute?” “Because, Mister Honey, when a woman has two men to choose from she doesn’t know what to do, for two men always become like brothers so that you wouldn’t know which of them was which: there isn’t any more difference between two men than there is between a couple of hares. But when there’s three men to choose from, there’s no trouble at all; and so I say that it’s yourself I’ll marry this night and no one else—and let you two men be sitting quiet in your places, for I’m telling you what I’ll do and that’s the end of it.” “I’ll give you my word,” said the first man, “that I’m just as glad as you are to have it over and done with.” “Moidered I was,” said the second man, “with the whole argument, and the this and that of it, and you not able to say a word but—maybe I will and maybe I won’t, and this is true and that is true, and why not to me and why not to him—I’ll get a sleep this night.” The Philosopher was perplexed. “You cannot marry me, ma’am,” said he, “because I’m married already.” The woman turned round on him angrily. “Don’t be making any argument with me now,” said she, “for I won’t stand it.”