A Lion had grown very old. The road led across a treeless plain where the Sun beat down fiercely. But much to the Satyr's surprise, the Man began to blow into his bowl of porridge. Running to one of the great ropes that bound him, she gnawed it until it parted, and soon the Lion was free. One day the Wolf ran down a Stag and immediately called his comrades to divide the spoil. One set her foot on the log. The other did likewise. They had not forgotten his superior airs toward them, and, to punish him, they drove him away with a rain of pecks and jeers.
Precious things are without value to those who cannot prize them.