"See now," said he, "if the poor fox has not got himself into some scrape! Those cunning creatures are always in mischief; thank Heaven, it never comes into my head to be cunning!" And the good-natured animal ran off as hard as he could to see what was the matter with the fox.
"Oh, dear!" cried Reynard; "what shall I do?
What shall I do?
My poor little sister has fallen into this hole, and I can't get her out; she'll certainly be smothered." And the fox burst out a howling more piteously than before.
"But, my dear Reynard," quoth the dog, very simply, "why don't you go in after your sister ?" "Ah, you may well ask that," said the fox; "but, in trying to get in, don't you perceive that I have sprained my back and can't stir?
Oh, dear! what shall I do if my poor little sister is smothered!" "Pray don't vex yourself," said the dog; "I'll get her out in an instant." And with that he forced himself with great difficulty into the hole.
Now, no sooner did the fox see that the dog was fairly in, than he rolled a great stone to the mouth of the hole and fitted it so tight, that the dog, not being able to turn round and scratch against it with his forepaws, was made a close prisoner.
"Ha, ha!" cried Reynard, laughing outside; "amuse yourself with my poor little sister, while I go and make your compliments to Mademoiselle the Cat." With that Reynard set off at an easy pace, never troubling his head what became of the poor dog.

When he arrived in the neighbourhood of the beautiful cat's mansion, he resolved to pay a visit to a friend of his, an old magpie that lived in a tree and was well acquainted with all the news of the place.

"For," thought Reynard, "I may as well know the blind side of my mistress that is to be, and get round it at once." The magpie received the fox with great cordiality, and inquired what brought him so great a distance from home.
"Upon my word," said the fox, "nothing so much as the pleasure of seeing your ladyship and hearing those agreeable anecdotes you tell with so charming a grace; but to let you into a secret--be sure it don't go further--" "On the word of a magpie," interrupted the bird.
"Pardon me for doubting you," continued the fox; "I should have recollected that a pie was a proverb for discretion.

But, as I was saying, you know her Majesty the lioness ?" "Surely," said the magpie, bridling.
"Well; she was pleased to fall in--that is to say--to--to--take a caprice to your humble servant, and the lion grew so jealous that I thought it prudent to decamp.

A jealous lion is no joke, let me assure your ladyship.