ext morning when the first light

came into the sky and the sparrows

stirred in the trees, when the cows

rattled their chains and the rooster

crowed and the early automobiles went

whispering along the road, Wilbur

awoke and looked for Charlotte. He saw

her up overhead in a corner near the

back of his pen. She was very quiet. Her

eight legs were spread wide. She

seemed to have shrunk during the night.

Next to her, attached to the ceiling,

Wilbur saw a curious object. It was a

sort of sac, or cocoon. It was peachcolored

and looked as though it were

made of cotton candy.

"Are you awake, Charlotte?" he

said softly.

"Yes," came the answer.

"What is that nifty little thing? Did

you make it?"

"I did indeed," replied Charlotte in

a weak voice.

"Is it a plaything?"

"Plaything? I should say not. It is

my egg sac, my magnum opus."

"I don't know what a magnum opus

(masterpiece) is," said Wilbur.

"That's Latin," explained Charlotte.

"It means 'great work." This egg sac is

my great work - the finest thing I have

ever made."

"What's inside it?" asked Wilbur.

"Eggs?"

"Five hundred and fourteen of

them," she replied.

"Five hundred and fourteen?" said

Wilbur. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. I counted them. I got

started counting so I kept on - just to

keep my mind occupied."

"It's a perfectly beautiful egg sac,"

said Wilbur, feeling as happy as though

he had constructed it himself.

"Yes, it is pretty," replied

Charlotte, patting the sac with her two

front legs. "Anyway, I can guarantee that

it is strong. It's made out of the toughest

material I have. It is also waterproof.

The eggs are inside and will be warm

and dry."

"Charlotte," said Wilbur dreamily,

"are you really going to have five

hundred and fourteen children?"

"If nothing happens, yes," she said.

"Of course, they won't show up till next

spring."

Wilbur noticed that Charlotte's

voice sounded sad. "What makes you

sound so down-hearted? I should think

you'd be terribly happy about this."

"Oh, don't pay any attention to me,"

said Charlotte. "I just don't have much

pep any more. I guess I feel sad because

I won't ever see my children."

"What do you mean you won't see

your children! Of course you will. We'll

all see them. It's going to be simply

wonderful next spring in the barn cellar

with five hundred and fourteen baby

spiders running around all over the

place. And the geese will have a new set

of goslings, and the sheep will have their

new lambs..."

"Maybe," said Charlotte quietly.

"However, I have a feeling I'm not going

to see the results of last night's efforts. I

don't feel good at all. I think I'm

languishing, to tell you the truth."

Wilbur didn't understand the word

"languish" and he hated to bother

Charlotte by asking her to explain. But

he was so worried he felt he had to ask.

"What does 'languishing' mean?"

"It means I'm slowing up, feeling

my age. I'm not young any more, Wilbur.

But I don't want you to worry about me.

This is your big day today. Look at my

web - doesn't it show up well with the

dew on it?"

Charlotte's web never looked more

beautiful than it looked this morning.

Each strand held dozens of bright drops

of early morning dew. The light from the

east struck it and made it all plain and

clear. It was a perfect piece of designing

and building. In another hour or two, a

steady stream of people would pass by,

admiring it, and reading it, and looking

at Wilbur, and marveling at the miracle.

As Wilbur was studying the web, a

pair of whiskers and a sharp face

appeared. Slowly Templeton dragged

himself across the pen and threw himself

down in a corner.

"I'm back," he said in a husky

voice. "What a night!"

The rat was swollen to twice his

normal size. His stomach was as big

around as a jelly jar.

"What a night!" he repeated,

hoarsely. "What feasting and carousing

(drink heavily, consume large quantities

of alcohol)! A real gorge! I must have

eaten the remains of thirty lunches.

Never have I seen such leavings, and

everything well-ripened and seasoned

with the passage of time and the heat of

the day. Oh, it was rich, my friends,

rich!"

"You ought to be ashamed of

yourself," said Charlotte in disgust. "It

would serve you right if you had an

acute attack of indigestion."

"Don't worry about my stomach,"

snarled Templeton. "It can handle

anything. And by the way, I've got some

bad news. As I came past that pig next

door - the one that calls himself Uncle I

noticed a blue tag on the front of his pen.

That means he has won first prize. I

guess you're licked, Wilbur. You might

as well relax - nobody is going to hang

any medal on you. Furthermore, I

wouldn't be surprised if Zuckerman

changes his mind about you. Wait till he

gets hankering (strong desire) for some

fresh pork and smoked ham and crisp

bacon! He'll take the knife to you, my

boy."

"Be still, Templeton!" said

Charlotte. "You're too stuffed and

bloated to know what you're saying.

Don't pay any attention to him, Wilbur!"

Wilbur tried not to think about what

the rat had just said. He decided to

change the subject.

"Templeton," said Wilbur, "if you

weren't so dopey (drugged, stupefied;

stupid), you would have noticed that

Charlotte has made an egg sac. She is

going to become a mother. For your

information, there are five hundred and

fourteen eggs in that peachy little sac."

"Is this true?" asked the rat, eyeing

the sac suspiciously.

"Yes, it's true," sighed Charlotte.

"Congratulations!" murmured

Templeton. "This has been a night!" He

closed his eyes, pulled some straw over

himself, and dropped off into a deep

sleep. Wilbur and Charlotte were glad to

be rid of him for a while.

At nine o'clock, Mr. Arable's truck

rolled into the Fair Grounds and came to

a stop at Wilbur's pen. Everybody

climbed out.

"Look!" cried Fern. "Look at

Charlotte's web! Look what it says!"

The grownups and the children

joined hands and stood there, studying

the new sign.

"'Humble,'" said Mr. Zuckerman.

"Now isn't that just the word for

Wilbur!"

Everyone rejoiced to find that the

miracle of the web had been repeated.

Wilbur gazed up lovingly into their

faces. He looked very humble and very

grateful. Fern winked at Charlotte. Lurvy

soon got busy. He poured a bucket of

warm slops into the trough, and while

Wilbur ate his breakfast Lurvy scratched

him gently with a smooth stick.

"Wait a minute!" cried Avery.

"Look at this!" He pointed to the blue tag

on Uncle's pen. "This pig has won first

prize already."

The Zuckermans and the Arables

stared at the tag. Mrs. Zuckerman began

to cry. Nobody said a word. They just

stared at the tag. Then they stared at

Uncle. Then they stared at the tag again.

Lurvy took out an enormous

handkerchief and blew his nose very

loud - so loud, in fact, that the noise was

heard by stableboys over at the horse

barn.

"Can I have some money?" asked

Fern. "I want to go out on the midway."

"You stay right where you are!"

said her mother. Tears came to Fern's

eyes.

"What's everybody crying about?"

asked Mr. Zuckerman. "Let's get busy!

Edith, bring the buttermilk!"

Mrs. Zuckerman wiped her eyes

with her handkerchief. She went to the

truck and came back with a gallon jar of

buttermilk.

"Bath time!" said Zuckerman,

cheerfully. He and Mrs. Zuckerman and

Avery climbed into Wilbur's pen. Avery

slowly poured buttermilk on Wilbur's

head and back, and as it trickled down

his sides and cheeks, Mr. and Mrs.

Zuckerman rubbed it into his hair and

skin. Passersby stopped to watch. Pretty

soon quite a crowd had gathered. Wilbur

grew beautifully white and smooth. The

morning sun shone through his pink ears.

"He isn't as big as that pig next

door," remarked one bystander, "but he's

cleaner. That's what I like."

"So do I," said another man.

"He's humble, too," said a woman,

reading the sign on the web.

Everybody who visited the pigpen

had a good word to say about Wilbur.

Everyone admired the web. And of

course nobody noticed Charlotte.

Suddenly a voice was heard on the

loud speaker.

"Attention, please!" it said. "Will

Mr. Homer Zuckerman bring his famous

pig to the judges' booth in front of the

grandstand. A special award will be

made there in twenty minutes. Everyone

is invited to attend. Crate your pig,

please, Mr. Zuckerman, and report to the

judges' booth promptly!"

For a moment after this

announcement, the Arables and the

Zuckermans were unable to speak or

move. Then Avery picked up a handful

of straw and threw it high in the air and

gave a loud yell. The straw fluttered

down like confetti into Fern's hair. Mr.

Zuckerman hugged Mrs. Zuckerman. Mr.

Arable kissed Mrs. Arable. Avery

kissed Wilbur. Lurvy shook hands with

everybody.

Fern hugged her mother. Avery

hugged Fern. Mrs. Arable hugged Mrs.

Zuckerman.

Up overhead, in the shadows of the

ceiling, Charlotte crouched unseen, her

front legs encircling her egg sac. Her

heart was not beating as strongly as

usual and she felt weary and old, but she

was sure at last that she had saved

Wilbur's life, and she felt peaceful and

contented.

"We have no time to lose!" shouted

Mr. Zuckerman. "Lurvy, help with the

crate!"

"Can I have some money?" asked

Fern.

"You wait!" said Mrs. Arable.

"Can't you see everybody is busy?"

"Put that empty buttermilk jar into

the truck!" commanded Mr. Arable.

Avery grabbed the jar and rushed to the

truck.

"Does my hair look all right?"

asked Mrs. Zuckerman.

"Looks fine," snapped Mr.

Zuckerman, as he and Lurvy set the crate

down in front of Wilbur.

"You didn't even look at my hair!"

said Mrs. Zuckerman.

"You're all right, Edith," said Mrs.

Arable. "Just keep calm.

Templeton, asleep in the straw,

heard the commotion and awoke. He

didn't know exactly what was going on,

but when he saw the men shoving Wilbur

into the crate he made up his mind to go

along. He watched his chance and when

no one was looking he crept into the

crate and buried himself in the straw at

the bottom.

"All ready, boys!" cried Mr.

Zuckerman. "Let's go!" He and Mr.

Arable and Lurvy and Avery grabbed the

crate and boosted it over the side of the

pen and up into the truck. Fern jumped

aboard and sat on top of the crate. She

still had straw in her hair and looked

very pretty and excited. Mr. Arable

started the motor. Everyone climbed in,

and off they drove to the judge's booth in

front of the grandstand.

As they passed the Ferris wheel,

Fern gazed up at it and wished she were

in the topmost car with Henry Fussy at

her side.