“Will Neighbor Cock crow again?” said the Grey Goose. “No; he will crow no more,” said the Fox; and that was true. By and by came hungry times, with little or nothing in the house to eat. “Look!” said the Great Red Fox, “yonder is Neighbor Sausage, and he has plenty.” “Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose. “And one’s friend should help one when one is in need,” said the Great Red Fox. “Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose again. So off went the Great Red Fox to Neighbor Sausage’s house. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the Sausage himself who came. “See,” said the Fox, “there are hungry times over at our house.” [Illustration: The Great Red Fox goes to call on neighbour Cock at his house because he will crow in the morn. ¶] [Illustration: The Great Red Fox calls upon the Sausage.] “I am sorry for that,” said the Sausage; “but hungry times will come to the best of us.” “That is so,” said the Great Red Fox, “but, all the same, you must help me through this crack. One would be in a bad pass without a friend to turn to.” “But see,” said the Sausage, “all that I have is mine, and it is inside of me at that.” “Nevertheless, I must have some of it,” said the Great Red Fox. “But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage. “But I must have it,” said the Great Red Fox. “But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage. And so they talked and talked and talked, but the end came at last, for one cannot talk forever to an empty stomach. Snip! snap! and the Sausage was down the Great Red Fox’s throat, and there was an end of it. And now the Fox had all that his friend had to give him, and so he went back home again. [Illustration: The Great Red Fox rests softly at home.] “Did Neighbor Sausage give you anything?” said the Grey Goose. “Oh, yes; he gave me all that he had with him,” said the Great Red Fox; and that also was very true. After that the world went around for a while as easily as a greased wheel. But one day the Great Red Fox said to the Grey Goose: “See now, my bones grow sore by lying on the hard stones.” “That is a great pity,” said the Grey Goose; “and if the hard stones were only soft, I, for one, would be glad.” “Yes,” said the Great Red Fox, “that is good; but soft talking makes them none the easier to lie upon. Could you not spare me a few of your feathers?” “A few feathers indeed!” said the Grey Goose, “it was not for this that I left the ways of the world over yonder. If you must have feathers you must pluck them from your own back.” “Prut!” said the Great Red Fox, “how you speak! A wife should do all that she can to make the world soft for her husband.” Then you should have heard the Grey Goose talk and talk. But it was no use; when times are hard with one, one’s wife should help to feather the nest—that was what the Great Red Fox said.