Year by year he went from bad to worse. He found fault with everybody and everything, and was so cross that after a while he didn’t have a single friend. He not only quarreled with all of his neighbors and snapped and snarled at every one who spoke to him, but he greedily swallowed any little helpless creatures that crossed his path, so that at last all of the animals hated him even more than they feared him. Then, too, he refused to have anything to do with any other foxes that found their way into the peaceful wood, and made their lives miserable with his airs. “You are nothing but common beasts,” he told them haughtily. “You will never have even one golden tail, while I will one day be the wonder of the world.” “Hadn’t you better wait until you get your fine tails before you brag so much?” asked one saucy young fellow. “It may not be any better than being a woman or a wizard or even an old gray fox.” “A fox with nine golden tails is the most magnificent thing that was ever seen or heard about,” he snarled. “I will be the King of Beasts and even men will worship me,” and he walked away switching his one bushy tail angrily. And he could only console himself by thinking what a sad thing it was not to be appreciated. “They are all jealous of me,” he told himself, as he didn’t often get a chance to talk to any one else. And he fretted and fumed from morning until night, counting the years that must pass, and he grew old and thin worrying because the days were so long. But everything comes if you only wait long enough, and at last the day came when he was a thousand years old. He had stayed all night by the hollow tree so that he would be on hand early in the morning, and long before it was day he began to knock and bark and call for the dragon. Even before the sun had touched the treetops the dragon came out rubbing its eyes sleepily. “How dare you wake me up?” cried the angry creature, blowing out fire and sparks and smoke until it looked like a volcano. “This is my thousandth birthday, and I want my nine tails of gold,” whined the fox. “You are a blithering old bother,” roared the dragon. “You don’t know what you want and you don’t want anything after you get it. Well, this is your last visit to me. Don’t let me ever see you again.” With another snort it raised its forked tail all covered with silver scales high above its head, opened its huge mouth and yawned furiously. Then it slowly wriggled back into its dark bed, and standing without was a fox with nine big, bright, glittering, golden tails. Never, never had such a thing been seen by man or beast! Even the fox was stunned for a moment when he found what had happened to him. Then he puffed out with pride until he almost burst, and held his head so high that he nearly fell over backward. He stood alone--the wonder of the whole world!