"Ah, ha!" the bear cried. "Now I have you Curly, and you, too, Ethel
Rose! Oh, how nice! You come with me and I will tell your fortune!"
"But I know my fortune already," said Ethel Rose, and she was just
ready to cry again, for she did not like bears.
"Never mind, come along to my den, anyhow!" growled the bear. "I am
going to have roast pork for supper!" and he made a grab for Curly
and Ethel Rose, and caught them in his big claws.
And then, all at once, he saw the pail Curly was carrying--that bear
did--and he growled out:
"Ha! Ha! What have we here? Something good, I'll venture. Well, I'll
take that first!" And before Curly could stop him the bear tipped up
the pail and drank every drop of sour milk at one mouthful! And
then! Oh, dear!
"Wow! Woof! Snickery-snee! Bur-r-r! Lemons! Vinegar! Sourgrass!"
cried the bear. And his mouth was puckered up so from the sour milk--
just as when you eat lemons if you have the mumps--that the bear
couldn't open his jaws to take even one bite.
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