— Well, said the Wolf, I agree to remain the Shepherd of the Year, though the title means little to me, as by nature I am rather modest and restrained. What really matters to me is the ceremonial, you know, the Lamb of the Year approaching the stage, that honest guy gently pinning the decoration on my chest. Lean or fat, they are all just as dear to me. And since you’ll never find another shepherd kinder than me, I expect another testimonial dinner for tomorrow afternoon. I would only dare to suggest that you should find a fatter fellow next time.