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"Where, indeed," replied the Fat Cat, sitting down and curling his long tail about his legs, "but at the King's table. Every day, when the feast is spread, I go thither and snatch away some dainty fatcat. digital storytelling morsel of food, either a piece of roast beef or a fried trout." The Lean Cat drew nearer to the edge of the roof. "Oh, tell me," he begged, "what is roast fatcat. digital storytelling beef, and how do fried trout smell? I have never tasted anything but broth." "Ah, that is why you look as lean as a spider," the other Cat answered. "Now, fatcat. digital storytelling if you were only to look once at the King's table, it would put new life into your old bones. To-morrow, if you wish, I will take you thither." With a purr of satisfaction, the Lean Cat jumped off the roof and ran to tell his Mistress the good news. But the Old Woman was far from happy when she heard of the expedition. "I beg you," she pleaded with her Cat, "to stay at home and be content with your dish of honest broth.
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