One sunny morning, a little fox named Finley, with a tail as bushy as a feather duster, was trotting through the countryside. His nose twitched. "Mmm, what's that yummy smell?" he wondered. He followed the scent and found himself peeking into a big, beautiful vineyard, full of green leaves and, oh, the most wonderful purple grapes!

Finley loved grapes, but he also knew vineyards sometimes had traps. He tiptoed in, very carefully. But alas! As he reached for a juicy bunch, *SNAP!* A rope loop tightened around his paw. "Oh dear!" yelped Finley, tugging and wiggling. He was stuck!

Just then, a kind-faced vineyard worker, carrying a basket, came whistling down the row. He spotted Finley. "Well, well, what have we here?" he said, not unkindly.

Finley put on his saddest face. "Oh, please, good sir!" he cried, his voice wobbly. "I was just admiring your lovely grapes. I didn't mean any harm! If you let me go, I promise, I swear on my bushy tail, I will never, ever, ever eat a single grape from your vineyard again!"

The worker looked at the frightened little fox. He had a soft spot for animals. "Hmm," he said, stroking his chin. "You promise? No more grape-snatching?"

"Never again!" Finley insisted, his eyes wide and innocent-looking. "Not one tiny grape!"

The worker smiled. "Alright then, little fellow. A promise is a promise." He carefully loosened the rope, and Finley's paw was free.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" chirped Finley, shaking his paw. He turned to leave, but then... his eyes fell upon a huge, glistening bunch of grapes right by the path. They looked so plump, so sweet, so very, very tempting. Finley's tummy rumbled. His promise seemed to float away like a dandelion seed in the wind.

Before he knew it, Finley had pounced on the grapes. *Munch, munch, slurp!* He gobbled them down, juice dripping from his chin.

The vineyard worker, who had been watching, sighed. "Hey!" he called out. "I thought you promised!"

Finley, with a purple-stained muzzle, just gave a cheeky flick of his bushy tail and scampered out of the vineyard, disappearing into the trees.

The worker shook his head, a little sad and a little amused. "Well," he said to himself, "I suppose some promises are easier to make than to keep, especially when juicy grapes are involved!" And he went back to tending his vines, remembering the little fox who loved grapes more than his word.

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