The piles were outside his five-foot circle, but he could see he was going to run out of room.
Still, he pretended otherwise and kept adding more dirt to the piles, piles that he would eventually have to move.
The problem was that when the dirt was in the ground, it was compacted. It expanded when it was excavated.
The piles were a lot bigger than his hole was deep. It was either now or later.
Reluctantly, he climbed up out of his hole, and once again dug his shovel into his previously dug dirt.
Myra's father got down on his hands and knees and closely examined each pig, tail to snout.
“Those are two of the finest pigs I have ever seen,” he said at last. “How am I to decide? I have only one daughter.”
“Why not let Myra decide?” suggested Elya. “That's preposterous!” exclaimed Igor, expelling saliva as he spoke.
“Myra is just an empty-headed girl,” said her father. “How can she possibly decide, when I, her father, can't?”
“She knows how she feels in her heart,” said Elya. Myra's father rubbed his chin.
Then he laughed and said, “Why not?” He slapped Elya on the back. “It doesn't matter to me. A pig is a pig.”
He summoned his daughter. Elya blushed when Myra entered the room. “Good afternoon, Myra,” he said.
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