RD THE FOX.

About the feast of Whitsuntide, when the woods were in their
lustyhood and gallantry, when every tree was clothed in the
green and white livery of glorious leaves and sweet-smelling
blossoms, when the earth was covered with her fairest mantle
of flowers, and the sweet birds entertained the groves with
the delight of their harmonious songs, the LION, the Royal
King of Beasts, made solemn proclamation that all quadrupeds
whatsoever should attend his court, and celebrate this great
festival.

Now when the king had assembled all his subjects together,
there was no one absent save Reynard the Fox, against whom
many grievous accusations were laid. First came Isegrim the
Wolf, with all his family and kindred, who, standing before
the King complained loudly how that Reynard had ill-treated
his wife and children. Then there came a little hound named
Curtise, who accused the Fox of having stolen his pudding in
the extreme cold winter-time, when he was nigh dying of
starvation. But scarcely had the hound finished his tale,
when, with a fiery countenance, in sprang Tibert the Cat,
and accused Curtise of having stolen this pudding from
himself, and declared that Reynard had righteously taken it
away.

Then rose the Panther: "Do you imagine, Tibert," quoth he,
"that Reynard ought not to be complained of? The whole world
knows that he is a murderer, a vagabond, and a thief."

Then quoth Grimbard the Badger, Reynard's nephew: "It is a
common proverb, _Malice never spake well_: what can you say
against my kinsman the fox? All these complaints seem to me
to be either absurd or false. Mine uncle is a gentleman,
and cannot endure falsehood. I affirm that he liveth as a
recluse; he chastiseth his body, and weareth a shirt of
hair-cloth. It is above a year since he hath eaten any
flesh; he hath forsaken his castle Malepardus, and abandoned
all his wealth; he lives only upon alms and good men's
charities, doing infinite penance for his sins; so that he
has become pale and lean with praying and fasting."

While Grimbard was still speaking, there came down the hill
Chanticleer the Cock, and with him two hens, who brought
with them on a bier their dead sister Copple, who had just
been murdered by Reynard. Chanticleer smote piteously his
feathers, and, kneeling before the King, spake in this
manner:

[Illustration: REYNARD IN THE LIKENESS OF A HERMIT.]

"Most merciful and my great Lord the King, vouchsafe, I
beseec