All the next winter I had no one to take care of me. I had to live in the forest, where I found scarcely enough to keep me from dying of hunger and thirst. I had plenty of time to think how wicked I’d been; how happy I was until I had given myself over to laziness, and spitefulness, and revenge; and to make up my mind to turn over a new leaf if ever I got the chance.

When the spring came, I went one day to a village on the edge of the forest, and was surprised to find quite a commotion there. The people were walking up and down; everybody had on his Sunday clothes; and, what was stranger still, all the donkeys in the neighborhood seemed to be there. They were sleek and fat, their heads were decorated with flowers and leaves, and not one of them was in harness or had a rider.

I trotted up to see if I could find out what all this was about, when suddenly one of the boys who were standing there saw me, and shouted,—

“Oh, I say, look here! here’s a fine donkey!”

31

“My word!” said another, “how well groomed he is! and how fat and well fed!” and they roared with laughter.

“I suppose he’s come to run in the donkey race,” said a third, “but he won’t win the prize! No fear!”

I was very much annoyed at these rude jokes and personal remarks; but I thought I should enjoy taking part in the race, so I listened again.

“Where are they going to run?” asked an old dame, who had just come up.

“In the meadow by the mill,” said a man named Andrew.

“How many donkeys are there?” asked the old woman.

“Sixteen, Mother Evans, and the one that comes in first will win a silver watch and a bag of money.”

“Oh, deary me!” said Mother Evans, “I do wish I had a donkey. I should so like to have a watch. I’ve never had the money to buy one.”

I liked the look of this old woman; I was justly proud of my running; I had been so long in the forest that I was not too fat, as some of these prize donkeys were; and so I would take part in the race. I trotted up to the others, and took my place among them, and then, to32 attract attention, I opened my mouth and brayed vigorously.

“Oh, you stop that!” cried out a man named Bill. “Hi! you there, donkey, you just stop that music, will you? and get out of there! You can’t run, you shabby brute! and, besides, you don’t belong to anybody.”

I held my tongue, but I didn’t budge an inch. Some laughed, and others were getting angry, when old Mother Evans said:—

“Well, he can have me for his mistress. I take him into my service from this minute. So now he can run for me.”

“Well,” said Bill, “do as you like, mother. Only if you want him to run, you’ve got to put a quarter into the bag the Squire has yonder.”

“All right, my dear,” said Mother Evans, and she hobbled off to where the Squire was sitting and paid her subscription into the............