My Silence Doesn't Mean i Agree With Your Statement

Here was once a little red hen that lived in a house by herself in the wood. And over the hill, in a hole in the rocks, lived a sly, crafty old fox. Now this crafty old fellow of a fox lay awake nights, and prowled slyly about days, trying to think of how he should get the little red hen. He wanted to carry her home to boil for his supper.

But the wise little hen never left her house without locking the door and putting the key in her pocket; so the old fox watched and prowled and lay awake nights till he grew pale and thin, but he found no way to get the wise little red hen.