Finley the fox, whose tummy was rumbling like a distant thunderstorm, was trotting through the woods one crisp morning. Sniff, sniff! What was that delicious smell? It was coming from a cozy little cottage with a chimney puffing out friendly smoke.

Peeking through the window, Finley saw an old woman, Granny Willow, humming a cheerful tune. And on her table, oh joy! A freshly baked pie, golden brown and smelling of sweet berries. Finley's mouth watered. "I simply *must* have a piece of that pie," he thought to himself, his foxy brain already spinning a plan.

He knocked gently on the door. Tap, tap, tap.

Granny Willow opened it, her eyes kind. "Well, hello there, little fox! What brings you to my door?"

Finley put on his most pitiful face. "Oh, dear Granny Willow," he whimpered, "I am so very tired and lost. I've been walking for miles and miles, and I'm ever so hungry." He let out a tiny, pretend cough.

Granny Willow smiled. "Oh, you poor thing! Come in, come in and warm yourself by my fire."

Finley trotted in, his eyes immediately locking onto the pie. "That smells wonderful, Granny," he said, trying to sound casual. "What a lovely pie!"

"It is, isn't it?" she replied, her eyes twinkling. "I just baked it for my lunch."

"Perhaps," Finley said, inching a little closer, "you might have a tiny crumb to spare for a weary traveler? Just a little taste?" He looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes.

Granny Willow chuckled. "A tiny crumb, you say? For such a clever-looking fox?" She picked up a small, plain biscuit from another plate. "How about this, little fox? It's not as fancy as pie, but it will fill a hungry tummy."

Finley's ears drooped a little. A plain biscuit? He had his heart set on that juicy berry pie! "Oh, um, thank you," he said, trying not to sound too disappointed. "But, you see, I also have a very sore throat. Sweet things, like berries, are very good for sore throats, my own granny used to say."

Granny Willow raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Well, my granny always said that a clever fox sometimes tries to be a little *too* clever." She patted his head gently. "This biscuit is all I have for a guest today, little one. The pie is just for me."

Finley knew he'd been outsmarted. He sighed, took the biscuit, and nibbled it politely. It wasn't pie, but it was something.

"Thank you, Granny Willow," he said, his tummy still rumbling a bit for the pie he didn't get. He gave a little bow and trotted back out into the woods, perhaps a little hungrier, but also a little wiser about trying to trick kind old ladies.

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