So the Fox went on again, and the next house he came to belonged to a 'Coon who milked cows. And the Fox watched him milk, and pretty soon he said: "What pleasant work that _is_! Let _me_ milk." So the 'Coon let the Fox milk, and the Cow put her foot in the milk-pail and upset it _all over_ the Fox's nice _new clothes_. And the Fox was mad, and said: "This work is not in the _least_ pleasant!" and he _hurried away_, though the 'Coon seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_.
And the next house the Fox came to belonged to a Cat who played the fiddle. And the Fox listened awhile and said: "What pleasant work that _must be_!" and he borrowed the Cat's fiddle. But when he started down the road playing, a Man ran around the corner and shot a loud gun at him, and that was not pleasant, _either_, though the Cat seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_.
So the Fox kept on travelling and _doing_ things that he thought would be _pleasant_, but that did not turn out to _be_ pleasant--not for _him_--until by-and-by he had travelled _clear around the world_ and had come up on the other side, _back_ to his _own garden_ again. And his garden was just the same as he had left it, only the things had grown bigger, and there were _some weeds_.
And the Fox jumped over the fence and commenced to _hoe_ the _weeds_, and pretty soon he said, "Why, this is _pleasant_!" Then he hoed some more, and said, "Why, what pleasant work _this is_!"
So he kept on hoeing and finding it pleasant until by-and-by the weeds were _all gone_, and the _Rabbit_ and the _Crow_ and the _Cat_ and the _'Coon_ came and traded him honey and pies and milk and music for vegetables, because he had the best garden in the world. And he _has yet_!
When Mr. Robin got through and sat down, Mr. Squirrel spoke up and said it was a good story because it had a moral lesson in it and taught folks to like the things they knew best how to do, and Mr. 'Possum said yes, that might be so, but that the story couldn't be true, because none of those animals would have enjoyed seeing that Fox leave them, but would have persuaded him to stay and help them, and would have taught him to do most of the work.
Then Mr. Robin spoke up and said that Mr. 'Possum thought everybody was like himself, and that anyway Mr. 'Possum didn't need the lesson in that story, for he already liked to do the things he could do best, which were to eat and sleep and let other people do the work, though of course he had been very good about getting the wood, lately, which certainly was unusual.