. . .

The centipede does not like little wooden boys. It writhes. It lashes about angrily. It chases him. It steps on a great Weave-wid thorn. This makes it even more angry, until the wooden boy has an idea. It’s like a wooden light bulb goes off above his head!

He spins the sword around and he cuts the thorned foot off the centipede.

This fills the heart of the centipede with joy.

It swirls around, above the Weave-wid, and it makes mushrooms. It travels left and right. It returns to its own caverns, a forgotten Aesop, in the darkness below the world.

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