I will not wait for one a day. I will kill
the goose, open it, and get all the eggs at once."

So he killed the goose and opened it, but what do you think? There was
not one egg to be found.

THE DONKEY AND HIS MASTERS

"How I hate this early rising!" said a donkey, with a great yawn. "I
wish I might sleep till sunrise. Here I am, harnessed and ready to
start to town before the roosters crow. And why? To take a little fruit
and a few vegetables to market. Isn't that a foolish reason for
spoiling my dreams!"

The master was tired of his donkey, for he never seemed willing to do
his work. "I do hate a donkey with his ears turned backward," he said.
"He has no right to complain, for his work is really light, and he gets
plenty of food and rest."

One day a tanner came along. He saw what a strong donkey the gardener
drove, and asked his price. The gardener was glad to sell him. "I hope
he will enjoy his new work," said the gardener. "He never seemed quite
happy with me."

The tanner used the donkey to carry hides. These were heavy and
bad-smelling. They almost made him sick.

"Oh, dear!" the donkey groaned one day. "I wish I were back with the
gardener. The vegetables were fresh and I was often given a cabbage
leaf or a beet top. I did have to get out early, to be sure, but I did
not work late. Here I must work early and late, and if I turn out of
the road to get a mouthful of grass, I am beaten soundly. I hate this
work and this place."

The donkey was so ill-natured that the tanner sold him to a coal miner.
He was lowered into a coal mine, where he had to pass his time pulling
loads of coal. The mine was dark, and he was kept very busy.

"This is very bad," he cried. "I wish I were with the gardener, or even
with the tanner. Anything would be better than working in this dismal
hole in the ground." But there he ended his unhappy life.

THE COBBLER AND THE RICH MAN

A cobbler worked in his shop from morning until night, and as he worked
he sang. Tired people who heard him were rested, and sad men and women
were cheered as they came near the shop. Children visited him and
watched him at his work and heard him sing. They called him "Jolly
Gregory."

"How can he sing when he works so hard and makes so little?" many
asked; but still his singing went on.

Across the road from the cobbler lived a rich man. His home was
beautiful, his clothes fine, and his fare the best that money could
buy; but