“There was the web, sagging dangerously under the weight of the fish.”
“How much did the fish weigh?” asked Wilbur eagerly. “I don’t know,” said Charlotte.
There was my cousin, slipping in, dodging out, beaten mercilessly over the head by the wildly thrashing fish,
dancing in, dancing out, throwing her threads and fighting hard.
First she threw a left around the tail. The fish lashed back. Then a left to the tail and a right to the mid-section.
The fish lashed back. Then she dodged to one side and threw a right, and another right to the fin.
Then a hard left to the head, while the web swayed and stretched.
“Then what happened?” asked Wilbur. “Nothing,” said Charlotte. “The fish lost the fight.”
“My cousin wrapped it up so tight it couldn’t budge.” “Then what happened?” asked Wilbur.
“Nothing,” said Charlotte. “My cousin kept the fish for a while, and then, when she got good and ready, she ate it.”
“Tell me another story!” begged Wilbur. So Charlotte told him about another cousin of hers who was an aeronaut.
“What is an aeronaut?” asked Wilbur. “A balloonist,” said Charlotte.
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