My head was thrown back, the branch bending towards me, and my feet on the top round, so that I was leaning back far out of the perpendicular, and the more I tried to get that pippin, and could not reach, the more bright and beautiful it looked.
I forgot all about the danger, for Shock was watching me, and I would have it; and as I strained up I at last was able to touch it with the tips of my fingers, for my feet were pressing the branch one way, my hands drawing it the other, till it came lower, lower, lower, my fingers grasped the apple--more and more, and at last, when I felt that I could bear the strain no longer, the stalk gave way, and the apple dropped between the twig and my hand.
Then for a moment, as I grasped it, I felt as if I was going to lose my footing, and hang off the ladder.

If I did, the bough was so thin that I knew it would break, and it was only by exerting all my strength that I held on.
At last, lowering hand below hand, I got to be a little more upright.
My feet were firmer on the ladder, and I was able to take a step down.
Another few moments and, with a sigh of relief at my escape from a heavy fall--for it really was an escape--I thrust the beautiful apple in my breast and descended to my basket, gave a final glance round to see if there was any more fruit within reach, found there was not, and so I went to the foot of the ladder, emptied my basket, took out the apple from my breast, and found that it was as beautiful as it had seemed up there.
"I must have you," I thought, and, turning the rosy side towards me, I took a tremendous bite out of it, a rich sweet juicy bite, and then stood staring stupidly, for Old Brownsmith was standing there with his cats, looking at me in a quiet serious way..