Once upon a time, there was a family of hens. They lived happily in a corner of the farmyard, with grain to eat, warm straw in the coop, a high fence surrounding them: life was good.
But alas: there grew a hole in the high fence - and one night a Fox filled that hole, slipped through it, slipped like a shadow into the hen house and seized poor Hettie hen by the neck.
The other hens flapped their wings, and scratched their claws, and pecked with all their might. But it did no good. Poor Hettie was borne off by her neck by the Fox.
What to do? What to do?
Hestia suggested going back to sleep. Perhaps the Fox might move away? Or find some other hens? Or just forget about them?
Nonsense, said Henrietta. Since when had any creature forgotten where a good meal lay? And hoping? Well, you can wish and hope all you want - but had it ever made the summer last longer or the winter less cold?
No, said Henrietta, we must try and feed the fox some other food. Clearly, he was starving. If they would only recognise the poor soul's hunger, he would eat grain and leave them alone.
Well, within the hour. My Fox was back. Henrietta bravely set forth to meet him, with grain in her beak.
'Mr Fox,' she began, 'I see you are hungry. Would y---.'
Alas, she never finished. The fox seized her by the throat and carried her off to her end, between the bars of silver and shadow.
Well, the poor hens! Again they conferred, much concerned.
Harriet held the argument. Perhaps, she said, the problem lay in the inability of the Fox to recognise that he and they were of the one and same material? All held together in the palm of the hand of Being? Love, that is what the Fox lacked. He was hungry to know that he and the chickens were one and the same in the Great Love.
For Henrietta was a philosophical and eloquent hen. Much respected - and indeed loved - by her feathery peers.
Now, the hens had barely settled again when - what should they see? - a shadow slipping loose from the other shadows: mr Fox again by that terrible hole in the fence.
Henrietta went to meet him. This time, the fox listened to all she said. After all, he was now a fox whose hunger had been lessened by two fat hens.
He listened, cocked his head and said: 'Well now, that is all very well, little hen. But I am a Fox, and you are a little hen. I will not stop because I do not wish to. It is my nature - and I delight in it.'
And with those words, he snapped up poor Henrietta in his sharp jaws.
Oh! How the other chickens squawked! They wailed for their lost friends and for themselves! There was chaos!!!!
Now, as it happened, all the commotion had woken the farmer, who had crept downstairs and through the farmyard, and seen the greedy fox visit the henhouse again and again.
He raised his gun and, 'Bang,' the scourge of the chicken coop was gone.
Because, sometimes, this is what must happen.
It doesn't really cover all the dimensions but it's an example - and hopefully, if you read it, that might prompt some ideas for your daughter.
For example, one argument in favour of had death penalty id ghost it disincentivises others to copy - how could that be managed with a fable?
Another is that there is a natural justice - how could that be managed?
It's a really tough task to do cold.
How many examples of fables has your daughter read?
Has she set down the arguments for and against capital punishment?
That would be a good first step. She can then try and illustrate one or two through a satirical fable ...
Anyway, good luck.