The Lion and the Hare

The hare was fast asleep in the warm grass, with her nose twitching in a dream, and she did not hear the soft paws coming closer. The lion stood over her and opened his jaws. Just then a fine young stag trotted past.

The lion's mouth stayed open. One small hare, or all that meat on four long legs? "Why stop for a snack," he said, "when I can have a feast?" And off he went, crashing through the bushes.

The noise woke the hare. She sat up, saw the leaves shaking, and shot away through the grass.

Over the hill they went, the stag and the lion, through the wood and across the stream. But the stag had long legs, and at last the lion stopped, puffing, and watched him leap out of sight. "No matter," he panted. "I still have the hare."

He plodded all the way back, and there was the warm grass, and there was the small round dent where she had slept. But there was no hare. "It serves me right," said the lion. "I had my dinner under my paw, and I let it go to chase a bigger one."