— 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.
