All summer long, the ant worked hard. She carried crumbs twice her size. She hauled seeds up steep hills. She stacked grain in her pantry, piece by piece, from morning until dark.

The grasshopper watched her and laughed.

"Why do you work so hard?" he called, leaning against a blade of grass with his long legs crossed. "The sun is shining! The flowers are blooming! Come and sing with me!"

"I can't," said the ant, wiping her brow. "I'm storing food for winter."

"Winter?" The grasshopper waved a lazy leg. "Winter is ages away. There's plenty of time to worry about that later."

And he went back to singing and playing his fiddle and dozing in the sunshine.

Summer turned to autumn. The leaves changed color and fell. The ant kept working.

The grasshopper kept playing.

Then winter came. The snow fell thick and white. The wind blew cold and sharp. There was not a crumb or a seed to be found anywhere.

The ant was snug in her home, with her pantry full and a warm fire crackling.

The grasshopper knocked on her door, shivering. His fiddle was under his arm, and his stomach was empty.

"Please," he said. "Do you have any food to spare? I'm so hungry."

The ant looked at him for a long moment.

"What did you do all summer, while I was working?" she asked.

"I sang," said the grasshopper, very quietly.

"Well then," said the ant. She paused. Then she opened her door a little wider. "Come in. But next summer, you'll help me carry the grain."

The grasshopper nodded. And he meant it.