enough, I dare say!” said the donkey. “I never think about the weather. I have other things to think about.”
“Indeed!” said the lion. “May I ask what things?”
“None of your business!” said the donkey rudely; and he set up a loud braying, thinking to frighten the lion away.
“Why do you bray?” asked the lion.
“Bray!” cried the donkey. “That was not braying – it was roaring!”
“If you think I don’t know braying from roaring,” said the lion, still politely, “you are mistaken. That was a bray.”
“Very well!” shouted the donkey. “If that was, this shall not be!” and he uttered a long and loud “Hee-haw!” and kicked up his heels in angry pride. “What do you call that?” he asked proudly.
“I call it a bray,” replied the lion; “and a very ugly one. You see, after all, you are a donkey; look at the length of your ears!”
“How dare you?” cried the donkey. “My ears are the finest in the world, everybody says so. And as for roaring, if I have not scared you yet, just listen to me now!” And flinging up his heels again he bellowed till his own long ears tingled with the sound.
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