The Fox and the Bramble

The fox scrambled up the hedge with his eyes on the field beyond. He was almost over when his foot slipped.

Down he went. He flung out a paw and grabbed the first thing he could reach, and it was a bramble.

"Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" He dropped into the ditch and looked at his feet, which were pricked and torn and sore all over. He pulled out one thorn, then another, and then he turned on the bramble in a rage.

"You wicked plant!" he shouted. "I came to you for help! I was falling, and I held on to you, and look what you have done! You have hurt me more than the hedge ever could! You ought to be..."

"Just a minute," said the bramble. "You must be out of your mind. I catch hold of everything that comes by, because that is what I do. And you chose to catch hold of me?"