Early one morning a hungry Wolf was prowling around a cottage at the edge of a village, when he heard a child crying in the house. So the Ass lifted up his foot and the Wolf began to search very closely and carefully for the thorn. That one had not been able to run fast enough because of the weight of his brush. Now the farmer came in. And so far as shepherds are concerned, we all know they belong to that puny race that pretends to be our masters. His Master had told him to call for help should a Wolf attack the flock, and the Villagers would drive it away. Mercury laid the golden axe on the bank and sprang back into the pool. Then into the pond he jumped, dragging his foolish companion with him. So there he sat groaning and moaning, both from the discomfort inside him and his anxiety to escape from the basket. Thank you, said Master Fox sweetly, as he walked off Though it is cracked, you have a voice sure enough. But where are your wits?
We often make much of the ornamental and despise the useful.