F Not very long ago there were two sheep who put on wolf's clothing and @ went among the wolves as spies, to see what was going on.  They G arrived on a fete day, when all the wolves were singing in the taverns  B or dancing in the street.  The first sheep said to his companion, C "Wolves are just like us, for they gambol and frisk.  Every day is  F fete day in Wolfland."  He made some notes on a piece of paper (which C a spy should never do) and he headed them "My Twenty-Four Hours in  F Wolfland," for he had decided not to be a spy any longer but to write ? a book on Wolfland and also some articles for the Sheep's Home  F Companion.  The other sheep guessed what he was planning to do, so he ? slipped away and began to write a book called "My Ten Hours in  D Wolfland."  The first sheep suspected what was up when he found his E friend had gone, so he wired a book to his publisher called "My Five  E Hours in Wolfland," and it was announced for publication first.  The  E other sheep immediately sold his manuscript to a newspaper syndicate   for serialization.    D Both sheep gave the same message to their fellows: wolves were just F like sheep, for they gamboled and frisked, and every day was fete day G in Wolfland.  The citizens of Sheepland were convinced by all this, so  E they drew in their sentinels and they let down their barriers.  When  C the wolves descended on them one night, howling and slavering, the  4 sheep were as easy to kill as flies on a windowpane.  / Moral: Don't get it right, just get it written. 