he master came into the shed, and said:

"I will have that cow killed to-morrow."

This put Tom Thumb into a great fright, and he called out loudly:

"Please let me out, here I am inside."

This the master heard plainly enough, but could not make out where the
voice came from.

"Where are you?" he inquired.

"In the black cow," was the reply.

However, the master could not understand what was meant, and so went
away.

The following morning the cow was killed, but fortunately in the cutting
up the knife did not touch Tom Thumb, who was put aside with the meat
that was to be made into sausages.

When the butcher began chopping, he cried as loudly as he could--

"Don't chop far, I am down beneath," but the chopper made so much noise,
that he attracted no attention.

It was indeed a terrible situation for poor Tom. But being in danger
brightens one's wits, and he sprang so nimbly, this way and that,
keeping clear of the chopper, that not a blow struck him, and he did not
get even a scratch.

However, he could not escape, there was no help for it, he was forced
into a skin with the sausage meat, so was compelled to make himself as
comfortable as might be. It was very close quarters, and besides that,
the sausages were suspended to smoke in the chimney, which was by no
means entertaining, and the time passed slowly.

When winter came, he was taken down for a guest's meal, and while the
hostess was slicing the sausage he had to be on his guard, lest if he
stretched out his head it might be cut off.

Watching his opportunity, at last he was able to jump out of the
sausage, and right glad was he to be once again in the company of his
fellow-men.

It was not very long, however, that he stayed in this house, where he
had been met by so many misfortunes, and again he set forth on his
travels, rejoicing in his freedom, but this did not long continue.

Swiftly running across the field came a fox, who, in an instant, had
snapped up poor little Tom.

"Oh, Mr. Fox," called out the little tailor, "it is I who am in your
throat; please let me out."

"Certainly," answered Reynard, "you are not a bit better than nothing at
all, you don't in the least satisfy me; make me a promise, that I shall
have the hens in your father's yard, and you shall regain your liberty."

"Willingly, you shall have all the hens; I make you a faithful promise,"
responded Tom Thumb.

So the fox coughed and set him free, and himself carried