I am an old man now, of course, so please excuse some minor inconsistencies in my story. It is hard to remember, so I have, of course, my cabinet of keepsakes...
The room is kind for someone of advanced age, well-upholstered and such, but the cabinet (more of a chest) is all rude wood and corners. His gnarled hands shake their way to the sides of the lid and gently elevate it, revealing a pile of the junk of a lifetime.
 In each lies a story, but, well, let me see here...
He paws through the pile slowly, and you notice the purpose and the care.
 Here I am!
Lifting a small wooden doll aloft, he smiles like the sunshine's warm rays traced wrinkles in his face. He brings the doll down to face you. It is an evocative thing. You see now that it was once a marionette, and there yet are bits of the finest string remaining, still wisping gently in the movement. With steadier hands, now, he gently guides the marionette through a dance, which you recognize. It is a celebratory folk dance. He begins to speak again.
 Let me tell you the story of this fellow. He was made by a big spider, to do business with the people of the town. It does great good to put on a friendly face in matters of business.
Indeed, the marionette seems to have an affable expression, indicating sensible prices and steadfast reliability.
 The spider was old, just as I am now, and wished to provide for her many many many children and grandchildren and the like, for it was a time of difficulty, and their hunger was so great that they had begun to turn on eachother. She cried and cried, and in time, came up with a plan.
 For days, she chewed away at sticks, and spun her strongest thread, and even used coals from one of the village's firepits to mark the eyes and the mouth. In time, she had created a beautiful marionette.
Your mind briefly wanders as you observe the sitting doll, and peer into its dark, deep, and friendly eyes. You find yourself wondering, then snap back.
 ...and four score of her children climbed up to a bough of the peach tree, and hauled the marionette to his feet.
He hauls the marionette to its feet, feigning a great effort.
 In his little hands, the marionette held a good, strong string of finest spidersilk. Grandmother spider controlled the hands herself, as they were the most important part. When one of the townsfolk came their way, she made the puppet wave. Naturally, this caught their attention.
 Now, spiders will eat all kinds of bugs, but the only thing stopping them from eating bigger things is their size. A spider as big as me would have no trouble eating, say, a cottage pie.
 The little puppet lifts up his hands, and the townsperson stooped down to see what the wooden man had brought - she could not, of course, see the tiny tiny wisps that animated him. So, with caution, she lifted the string the marionette held, and gave it a little tug. It was stretchy. The marionette gestured that she should pull on either side of it mightily, and so she did.
  My, what a fine string!
 she said, stealing a look back at the marionette.
  What price would you ask for a string like this, the height of me?
 The marionette, of course, could not speak her language, and neither could the spider. In point of fact, this is only what I imagine she might have said.
You are somewhat annoyed by the break from the story.
 So, to get the point across, the old spider gave the signal and the marionette cocked his head to the side in the way that she had seen the dogs do when they didn't know what to do.
  I see,
 said the townsperson, then drew her arms as wide as they could go.
 The old spider then used one of the marionette's hands to rub his belly, and outstretched the other, in the sign of a request.
  I see, I see! I don't know what use a doll has for food, but you're in luck - we've meat today, and I don't think anyone would begrudge you a little hospitality, especially in advance for a lovely bit of string.
 She hustled off to her house, and returned with a generous portion of meat, which she handed to the marionette. It took all the effort of every spider to hold the beautiful meal.
  Very good. Come find me whenever the string is ready.
 Hardly had she left before a storm of spiders flew down from the tree to begin to eat the meat. It was better than the beefiest beetle, and more delicious than the juiciest fly. The old spider went too, and they all had plenty to eat before she told them
  Come, my children. Wrap this meat up before anyone else thinks to get a taste. We have much spinning to do.
 For the next ten days, they spun and spun, twisted and braided, until they had produced a rope thicker than the great spider under the earth herself could make, and they all got together and brought the rope to town. It was no mean feat, but they were able to climb from canopy to canopy to rooftop to rooftop to bring the little businessman, with the rope in his hands, to the house of the townswoman, and knocked on the door.
  Oh, what a delight to see you! And what an incredible thing you've done - I asked a string, and you gave me a beautiful rope. I'm sure I can get plenty of strings from that, should I ever need.
 She handed the rope over to her kids, and told them to see if among all of them could they stretch it, and lo they could not. It was a rope the likes of which they had never seen - so fine, so strong. She found another cut of meat, and brought it to the marionette, who gave a bow, and carried the meat away.
 This arrangement continued for years - she would bring the marionette meat to eat, and he would bring rope for them to use. When the old spider saw that she was taking apart some of the rope into threads to weave into clothes, she had the marionette bring long bundles of silken yarn.
 Eventually, the old spider died, but by now, her children had learned to work the marionette together. The townswoman made her family and her village prosper by the sale of fine fabrics and ropes. They were able to feed the marionette more, and the marionette brought more and more thread.
The old man pauses here, and there is a twinkle in his eye, or perhaps a tear, as he looks at the marionette.
 That is when I was born.
With this, he slaps one of his knees, and makes the work of standing up, returning the doll to its place among his many baubles.
 Go on, I'll tell you more tomorrow. Allow me my rest.