Next morning, Wilbur arose and stood beneath the web.
He breathed the morning air into his lungs.
Drops of dew, cathcing the sun, made the web stand out clearly.
When Lurvy arrived with breakfast,
there was the hadnsome pig,
and over him, woven neatly in block letters,
was the work TERRIFIC.
Another miracle.
Lurvy rushed and called Mr. Zuckerman.
Mr. Zuckerman ran to the phone called Mrs. Zuckerman.
Mrs. Zuckerman climbed into their truck and hurried over.
Everybody stood at the pigpen and stared at the web and read the word, over and over,
while Wilbur, who really felt terrific,
stood quietly swelling out his chest and swinging his snout from side to side.
"Terrific!" breathed Zuckerman, in joyful admiration
"Edith, you better phone the reporter on the Weekly Chronicle and tell him what was happened.
He will want to know about this.
He may want to bring a photograper.
There isn't a pig in the whole state that is as terrific as our pig."
The news spread.
People who had journeyed to see Wilbur when he was "some pig" came back again to see him now that he was "terrific."
That afternoon, when Mr. Zuckerman went to milk the cows and clean out the tie-ups, he was still thinking about what a wondrous pig he owned."