After their day-long pursuit of the gingerbread man, the villagers were disappointed to find a lovely red fox smacking his lips.
“If it’s that gingerbread fellow you’re looking for, I’m afraid you just missed him,” said the fox. “Though I can assure you, he was delicious.”
The fox watched as the grumbling villagers shuffled away, muttering about how they didn’t much like gingerbread anyway or that the damned cookie was more trouble than he was worth.
“Alright, they’re gone,” the fox said finally, standing up to let the gingerbread man out from under him. “Take it from someone who knows: don’t waste time taunting people who want to eat you. Because they will eat you.”
The gingerbread man didn’t seem to take this too seriously. “And why don’t you eat me?”
“Because, unlike them, I’m not a complete barbarian,” sniffed the fox. “And because I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of a fox hunt. It gets tiresome after a while.”
“Well, I’m sure the old lady who baked me will give you some treats as a reward,” said the gingerbread man. “She’s a good cook, obviously. At least, those villagers seemed to think so.”
“I like the sound of that,” said the fox, getting to his feet. “And while she’s at it, perhaps she can bake you a gingerbread house.”