“Perhaps she would sing to her young,” said the parsley.
“That would at once entitle us to rank with the bushes,” said the goat’s-foot.
“What are you talking about?” asked the spider, putting out her head from under the leaf.
“We’re talking about you,” said the mouse. “We were saying that you really ought to get married. It’s not good, in the long run, for a woman to live alone. It makes her queer and sour. If you only knew how delightful it is to see one’s dear little young and feed them and educate them!”
“It’s the provision of nature,” said the mouse. “And I will do what I can for you, no matter what you say. I see a heap of spiders daily on my way along the hedge. They are certainly much smaller than you, but nice fellows, for all that. Perhaps I may meet a big one, too. Then I shall tell him that there’s a charming young lady over here, longing for a sweetheart.”
“Then you’ll be telling an awful lie,” said the spider. “And you needn’t look for one who is bigger than I, for our men are all miserable under-sized vermin. I tell you, no one looks upon them as worth a straw. It’s long been understood among us that it’s only the women that are good for anything.”
“Well, I’m going,” said the mouse. “I shall find the right man yet. And I feel sure that you’ll be much more amiable when you’re in love.”
“Run away, Mousie,” said the spider. “The man who can please me isn’t born yet. But you have nothing in your head but love and nonsense.”
She killed a fly, spun a web round him and hung him up and then hid under the leaf. The mouse went away, the parsley and the goat’s-foot put their heads together and talked of the future.
The next morning, a really nice gentleman-spider was sitting on the parsley, but a good way off from the snappish young lady.
He had brushed his clothes and spun a couple of fine threads to show what he could do. He bent and stretched his legs for her to see that he was well-shaped. Seven of his eyes beamed with love, while the eighth took care that she didn’t eat him:
“Allow me, miss, to offer you my hand and heart,” said he.
“He’s a fair-spoken man,” said the parsley.
“It was I that sent him here,” said the mouse.
But the spider did not throw up the game so easily. He gracefully bowed his thorax, set two of his eyes to watch that nothing happened to him and looked doubly enamoured with the other six: