me into the stable and said,

"To-morrow this cow is to be slaughtered."

At that Tom Thumb felt very terrified; and with his shrillest voice he
cried,

"Let me out first; I am sitting inside here!"

The master heard him quite plainly, but could not tell where the voice
came from.

"Where are you?" asked he.

"Inside the black one," answered Tom Thumb, but the master, not
understanding the meaning of it all, went away.

The next morning the cow was slaughtered. Happily, in all the cutting
and slashing he escaped all harm, and he slipped among the sausage-meat.
When the butcher came near to set to work, he cried with all his might,

"Don't cut so deep, don't cut so deep, I am underneath!"

But for the sound of the butcher's knife his voice was not heard. Now,
poor Tom Thumb was in great straits, and he had to jump nimbly out of
the way of the knife, and finally he came through with a whole skin. But
he could not get quite away, and he had to let himself remain with the
lumps of fat to be put in a black pudding. His quarters were rather
narrow, and he had to be hung up in the chimney in the smoke, and to
remain there a very long while. At last, when winter came he was taken
down, for the black pudding was to be set before a guest. And when the
landlady cut the black pudding in slices, he had to take great care not
to lift up his head too much, or it might be shaved off at the neck. At
last he saw his opportunity, took courage, and jumped out.

But as things had gone so badly with him in that house, Tom Thumb did
not mean to stay there, but betook himself again to his wanderings. His
freedom, however, did not last long. In the open fields there came a fox
who snapped him up without thinking.

"Oh, Mr. Fox," cries Tom Thumb, "here I am sticking in your throat; let
me out again."

"Very well," answered the fox. "It is true you are no better than
nothing; promise me the hens in your father's yard, then I will let you
go."

"With all my heart," answered Tom Thumb, "you shall have them all, I
promise you."

Then the fox let him go, and he ran home. When the father saw his dear
little son again, he gave the fox willingly all the hens that he had.

"And look, besides, what a fine piece of money I've got for you!" said
Tom Thumb, and handed over the farthing which he had earned in his
wanderings.

But how, you ask, could they let the fox devour all the poor chicks?

Why, you silly child, you know that your fa