"Come pig!" said Mr. Zuckerman, tapping the pail. "Come pig!"
Wilbur took a step toward the pail.
"No-no-no!" said the goose.
"It's the old pail trick, Wilbur. Don't fall for it, don't fall for it! He's tryubg to lure you back into captivity-ivity. He's appealing to your stomach."
Wlibur don't care. The food smelled appetizing.
He took another step toward the pail.
"Pig, pig!" said Mr. Zuckerman in a kind voice, and began walking slowly toward the barnyard, looking all about him innocently, as if he didn't know that a little white pig was following along behind him.
"You'll be sorry-sorry-sorry," called the goose.
Wilbur didn't care. He kept walking toward the pail of slops.
"You'll miss your freedom," honked the goose.
"An hour of freedom is worth a barrel of slops." Wlibur didn't care.
When Mr. Zuckerman reached the pigpen, he climbed over the fence and poured the slops into the trough.
Then he pulled the loose board away from the fence, so that there was a wide hole for Wilbur to walk through.
"Reconsider, reconsider!" cried the goose. Wilbur paid no attention.
He stepped through the fence into a long drink of slops, sucking in the milk hungily an chewing the popover.
It was good to be home again.
While Wilbur ate, Lurvy fetched a hammer and some 8-penny nails and nailed the board in place.
Then he and Mr. Zuckerman leaned lazily on the fence and Mr. Zuckerman scratched Wilbur's back with a stick.
"He's quite a pig," said Lurvy.
"Yes, he'll make a good pig," said Mr. Zuckerman.
Wilbur heard the words of praise.
He felt the warm milk inside his stomatch.
He felt the pleasant rubbing of the stick along his itchy back.
He felt peaceful and happy and sleepy.
This had been a tiring afternoon.
It was still only about four o'clock but Wilbur was ready for bed.
"I'm really too young to go out into the world alone," he thought as he lay down.