So he pushed the straw to one side and stretched out in the manure.
Wilbur sighed. It had been a busy day—his first day of being terrific.
Dozens of people had visited his yard during the afternoon, and he had had to stand and pose,
looking as terrific as he could. Now he was tired. Fern had arrived and seated herself quietly on her stool in the corner.
“Tell me a story, Charlotte!” said Wilbur, as he lay waiting for sleep to come. “Tell me a story!”
So Charlotte, although she, too, was tired, did what Wilbur wanted.
“Once upon a time,” she began, “I had a beautiful cousin who managed to build her web across a small stream.”
“One day a tiny fish leaped into the air and got tangled in the web. My cousin was very much surprised, of course.”
The fish was thrashing wildly. My cousin hardly dared tackle it. But she did.
She swooped down and threw great masses of wrapping material around the fish and fought bravely to capture it.
“Did she succeed?” asked Wilbur. “It was a never-to-be-forgotten battle,” said Charlotte.
“There was the fish, caught only by one fin, and its tail wildly thrashing and shining in the sun.”
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