The fox was by no means unwilling to occupy the highest place in the assembly, and, besides, he was anxious to take a peep into the kettle, for he had his suspicions that he might be disappointed of the delicacies he had been expecting.
So, by degrees, he was ushered nearer and nearer the great blazing fire, until by a dexterous push and shove he was hoisted into the seething kettle.
His feet were dreadfully scalded, but he leaped out, and ran home to his lodge, howling and crying with pain.

His grandmother, with whom, according to the custom of animals, he lived, demanded of him an account of the affair.

When he had faithfully related all the circumstances (for, unlike the civilized animals, he did not think of telling his grandmother a story), she reproved him very strongly.
"You have committed two great faults," said she.

"In the first place, you were very rude to the chief who was so kind as to invite you, and by returning insult for civility you made yourself enemies who were determined to punish you.

In the next place, it was very unbecoming in you to be so forward to take the place of honor.