was with a chicken dinner right before him, and he didn't touch it.

You see it was this way: Reddy's wits were working very fast there in
Farmer Brown's henhouse. He knew that he had only a forlorn chance of
escaping when Farmer Brown's boy should come to open the henhouse in the
morning. He knew that he must make the most of that forlorn chance. He
knew that freedom is a thousand times better than a full stomach.

On one of the lower roosts sat a fat hen. She was within easy jumping
distance. Reddy knew that with one quick spring she would be his. If the
henyard gate had been open, he would have wasted no time in making that
one quick spring. But the henyard gate, as you know, was closed fast.

"I'm awfully hungry," muttered Reddy to himself, "but if I should catch
and eat that fat hen, Farmer Brown's boy would be sure to notice the
feathers on the floor the very minute he opened the door. It won't do,
Reddy; it won't do. You can't afford to have the least little thing seem
wrong in this henhouse. What you have got to do is to swallow your
appetite and keep quiet in the darkest corner you can find,"

So Reddy Fox spent the rest of the night curled up in the darkest
corner, partly behind a box. All the time his nose was filled with the
smell of fat hens. Every little while a hen who was being crowded too
much on the roost would stir uneasily and protest in a sleepy voice.
Just think of what Reddy suffered. Just think how you would feel to be
very, very hungry and have right within reach the one thing you like
best in all the world to eat and then not dare touch it. Some foolish
folks in Reddy's place would have eaten that dinner and trusted to luck
to get out of trouble later. But Reddy was far too wise to do anything
of that kind.