"How lucky some people are!" said old Mr. Crow. He was talking to the Muley Cow, in the pasture. And though she didn't care for his company, she was curious enough to ask him what he meant.  
"I was just thinking," Mr. Crow explained, "I was just thinking what a hard life I lead, and how I have to hunt around to find whatever I can to eat. In winter it's usually poor pickings for me. But some people have their meals set right under their noses. They don't even need to stir."
 
"I suppose," the Muley Cow ventured, "you're thinking about us cows."
 
"I am," he admitted. "You have such an easy time that often I actually wish I had been born a cow myself."
 
The Muley Cow shook her head.
 
"That would have been impossible," she murmured.
 
Old Mr. Crow up at once.
 
"I'd like to know why!" he . He was always ill-mannered when he was angry.
 
The Muley Cow stared at him coolly. She was a calm person, generally.
 
"You would have had to be a , in the beginning," she explained.
 
"Of course! Of course!" Mr. Crow spluttered. "Of course I knew that. You needn't bother to tell me things that everybody knows."
 
"Being a cow is not all fun, I assure you," the Muley Cow continued. "The trouble is, you can't go and come as you please. You have to do about as you're told. And I'm............