One day Chicken-diddle had gone to sleep under a rose-bush, and a cow reached over the fence and bit off the top of the rose-bush. The noise wakened Chicken-diddle, and just as she woke a rose-leaf fell on her tail.

“Squawk! Squawk!” cried Chicken-diddle, “the sky’s falling down”; and away she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran until she came to the barnyard, and there was Hen-pen rustling in the dust of the barnyard.

“Oh, Hen-pen, don’t rustle — run, run!” cried Chicken-diddle. “The sky’s falling down.”

The hen stopped rustling. “How do you know that Chicken-diddle?” asked Hen-pen.

“I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run, until we get some place.”

“Quawk! Quawk,” cried the hen, and she began to run, and Chicken-diddle ran after her.

They ran till they came to the duck-pond, and there was Duck-luck just going in for a swim.

“Oh, Duck-luck! Duck-luck! don’t try to swim,” cried Hen-pen. “The sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?” asked Duck-luck.

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“Why shouldn’t I know it? I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”

“Yes, we had better run,” quacked Duck-luck, and away he waddled with Hen-pen, and Chicken-diddle after him.

They ran and ran till they came to a green meadow, and there was Goose-loose eating the green grass.

“Oh, Goose-loose, Goose-loose, don’t eat; run, run,” cried Duck-luck.

“Why should I run?” asked Goose-loose.

“Because the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“Because I saw it with my eyes, and heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run some place.”

“Yes, we’d better run,” cried Goose-loose.

Away they all ran, Goose-loose at the head of them, and they ran and ran until they came to the turkey-yard, and there was Turkey-lurkey strutting and gobbling.

“Oh, Turkey-lurkey! don’t strut! Don’t strut!” cried Goose-loose.

“Why should I not strut?” asked Turkey-lurkey.

“Because the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know it is?”

“Duck-luck told me!”

“How do you know, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me!”

“How do you know, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me!”

“How do you know, Chicken-diddle?”

“I couldn’t help knowing! I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”

“Yes, we’d better run,” said Turkey-lurkey, so away they all ran, first Turkey-lurkey, and then Goose-loose, and then Duck-luck, and then Hen-pen, and then Chicken-diddle.

They ran and ran until they came to Fox-lox’s house, and there was Fox-lox lying in the doorway and yawning until his tongue curled up in his mouth. When he saw Turkey-lurkey and Goose-loose and Duck-luck and Hen-pen and Chicken-diddle he stopped yawning, and pricked up his ears, and he was very glad to see them.

“Well, well,” said he, “and what brings you all here?”

“Oh, Fox-lox, Fox-lox, don’t yawn,” cried Turkey-lurkey, “the sky’s falling down.”

“How do you know that, Turkey-lurkey?” asked the fox.

“Goose-loose told me.”

“How do you know that, Goose-loose?”

“Duck-luck told me.”

“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”

“Hen-pen told me.”

“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”

“Chicken-diddle told me.”

“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”

“I couldn’t help knowing, for I saw it with my eyes, and I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, where shall we run? We ought to go some place.”

“Well,” said the Fox, “you come right in here, and I’ll take such good care of you that even if the sky falls down you won’t know anything about it.”

So in ran Turkey-lurkey, and Fox-lox put him in the big room, and shut the door. In ran Goose-loose, and he put him in the little room, and shut the door. In ran Duck-luck, and he put him in the cellar, and shut the door. In ran Hen-pen, and he put her in the attic, and shut the door. In ran Chicken-diddle, and Fox-lox kept him right there in the room with him. And what happened to them after that I don’t know, but nobody ever saw them again; if the sky really fell, I never heard about it. They were only a pack of silly fowls, anyway.

“My dear,” said the cock to the hen one day, “what do you say to our taking a walk over to Mulberry Hill? The mulberries must be ripe by now, and we can have a fine feast.”

“That would suit me exactly,” answered the hen. “I am very fond of ripe fruit, and it is a long time since I have tasted any.” So the cock and hen set off together.

The way was long, and the day was hot, and before the two had reached the top of the hill they were both of them tired and out of breath. The mulberries lay thick on the ground, and the cock and the hen ran about hither and yon, pecking and eating — pecking and eating, until they could eat no more, and the sun was near setting.

“Oh! oh!” groaned the hen, “how weary I am. How in the world are we to get home again. My legs are so tired, I could not go another step if my life depended on it.”

“My dear,” said the cock, “I too am weary, but I see here a number of fallen twigs. If I could but weave them into a coach we might ride home in comfort.”

“That is a clever thought,” sighed the hen. “Make it by all means. There is nothing I like better than riding in a coach.”

The cock at once set to work, and by weaving sticks and grasses together he made a little coach with body, wheels, and shafts all complete.

The hen was delighted. She at once hopped into the coach, and seated herself. “Now, my dear Cock-a-lorum,” she cried, “nothing more is needed but for you to get between the shafts and step out briskly, and we will be at home in less than no time.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the cock sharply. “I have no idea of pulling the coach myself. My legs ache as well as yours, and if you wait for me to pull you home you may sit there till doomsday.”

“But how then are we to get home?” asked the hen, beginning to weep.

“I do not know,” answered the cock. “But what I do know is that I am not going to pull you.”

“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.

“But I won’t pull you,” stormed the cock.

So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.

When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”

It flew at the cock with outspread wings. The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.

“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”

The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried. “Something stuck me.”

“I do well to stick you,” replied a small sharp voice. “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”

The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.

The cock looked out from the coach. “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”

This the pin and the needle were glad to do. The hen was somewhat nervous at first, lest one of them might tread on her foot, but they were so polite, and so careful not to crowd her, that she soon lost her fear of them.

Just before nightfall the coach reached the door of an inn. Here the duck stopped, and the cock called loudly for the landlord.

The man came running, but when he saw the strange guests that sat in the coach he almost shut the door on them. “We want no ragamuffins here,” he cried.

“Wait a bit,” cried the cock. “Just see this fine white egg that the hen has laid. And every morning the duck lays an egg also. Both of these shall be yours if you will take us in for the night.”

Well, the landlord was willing to agree to that bargain. He bade the companions enter and make themselves comfortable. This they did, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Then the cock and the hen made themselves comfortable in the best bed, and the others tucked themselves away as best they could.

As soon as they were all asleep the landlord said to his wife, “Listen! This is a fine bargain that I have made. Roast duck is very good, and so is chicken pie, and to-morrow our travelers shall furnish us with both of them. As for the needle and pin you can put them away in your work-basket, and they will always be useful.”

After saying this the landlord and his wife also went to sleep, for the landlord intended to be up early in the morning before his guests had wakened.

The cock, however, was not one to let anyone catch him sleeping. While it was still dark the next morning, he awakened the hen. “Come,” said he; “we’d best be up and away. This landlord of ours seems to me a sly and greedy man; he might take a notion to have roast chicken for dinner to-day, so we had better be gone before he is stirring.”

To this the hen agreed, but she and the cock were both hungry, so before starting they shared the egg between them. The shells they threw in among the ashes on the hearth. Then they took the needle and stuck it in the back of the landlord’s chair; the pin they put in the towel that hung behind the door, and this done they took to their wings and away they flew.

The sound of their going awoke the duck. It opened its eyes and looked after them. “Well, well! So they’re off. I think I’d better be moving myself,” and so saying it waddled down to the river, and swam back to the place whence it had come.

It was not long after this the landlord himself awoke. “I’ll just slip down and see to the travelers before breakfast,” said he.

“Do,” answered his wife.

First, however, the landlord stopped to wash in the kitchen. He picked up the towel to dry his face, and the pin that was in it scratched him from ear to ear. He went to the hearth to light his pipe and the egg-shells flew up in his face. He sat down in his chair for a moment, but scarcely had he leaned back, when he jumped up with a cry. The needle had run into him.

“It is all the fault of those ragamuffins,” cried the landlord in a rage, and he caught up a knife and ran to find them. But search as he might there was not a sign of them anywhere, for they were already safely home again.

So all the landlord had for his trouble after all, was his pains.

There was once a king who had one only daughter, and her he loved as he loved the apple of his eye.

One day the Princess sat beside a fountain in the gardens, and played with a golden ball. She threw it up into the air and caught it again, and the ball shone and glittered in the sunshine so that she laughed aloud with pleasure. But presently as she caught at the ball she missed it, and it rolled across the grass and fell into the fountain. There it sank to the bottom. The Princess tried and tried to reach it, but she could not. Then she began to weep, and her tears dripped down into the fountain.

“Princess, Princess, why are you weeping?” asked a hoarse voice.

The Princess looked about her, and there was a great squat green frog sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“I am weeping, Froggie, because I have dropped my ball into the water and I cannot get it again,” answered the Princess.

“And what will you give me if I get it for you?”

“Anything in the world, dear Frog, except the ball itself.”

“I wish you to give me nothing, Princess,” said the frog. “But if I bring back your ball to you will you let me be your little playmate? Will you let me sit at your table, and eat from your plate, and drink from your mug, and sleep in your little bed?”

“Yes, yes,” cried the Princess. She was very willing to promise, for she did not believe the frog could ever leave the fountain, or come up the palace steps.

“Very well, then that is a promise,” said the frog, and at once he plunged into the fountain and brought back the ball to the Princess in his arms.

The little girl took the ball and ran away with it without even stopping to thank him.

That evening the child sat at supper with her father, and she ate from her golden plate, and drank from her golden mug, and she did not even give a thought to the frog down in the fountain.

Presently there came a knocking at the door, but it was so soft that no one heard it but the Princess. Then the knocking came again, and a hoarse voice cried, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, let me in. Have you forgotten the promise you made me by the fountain?”

The Princess was frightened. She slipped down from her chair, and ran to the door, and opened it and looked out. There on the top-most step sat the great green frog.

When the Princess saw him she shut the door quickly, and came back to the table, and she was very pale.

“Who was that at the door?” asked the King.

“It was no one,” answered the Princess.

“But there was surely someone there,” said the King.

“It was only a great green frog from the fountain,” said the Princess. And then she told her father how she had dropped her ball into the fountain, and how the frog had brought it back to her, and of what she had promised him.

“What you have promised that you must perform,” said the King. “Open the door, my daughter, and let him in.”

Very unwillingly the child went back to the door and opened it; the frog hopped into the room. When she returned to the table, the frog hopped along close at her heels.

She sat down and began to eat. “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, set me upon the table that I too may eat from your golden plate,” said the frog.

The Princess would have refused, but she dared not because of what her father had said. She lifted the frog to the table, and there he ate from her plate, but she herself could touch nothing.

“I am thirsty,” said the frog. “Tilt your golden mug that I may drink from it.”

The Princess did as he bade her, but as she did so she could not help weeping so that her tears ran down into the milk.

When supper was ended the Princess was about to hurry away to her room, but the frog called to her, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, take me along. Have you forgotten that I was to sleep in your little white bed?”

“That you shall not,” cried the Princess in a passion. “Go back to the stones of the fountain, where you belong.”

“What you have said that you must do,” said the King. “Take the frog with you.”

The Princess shuddered, but she dared not refuse.

She took the frog with her up to her room, and put him down in the darkest corner, where she would not see him. Then she undressed and went to bed. But scarcely had her head touched the pillow when she heard the frog calling her.

“King’s daughter, King’s daughter! Is this the way you keep your promise? Lift me up to the bed, for the floor is cold and hard.”

The Princess sprang from the bed and seized the frog in her hands. “Miserable frog,” she cried, “you shall not torment me in this way.” So saying she threw the frog against the wall with all her force.

But no sooner did the frog touch the wall than it turned into a handsome young prince, all dressed in green, with a golden crown upon his head, and a chain of emeralds about his neck.

The Prince came to her, and took her by the hand.

“Dear Princess,” said he, “you have broken the enchantment that held me. A cruel fairy was angry with my father, and so she changed me into a frog, and put me there in the fountain. But now that the enchantment is broken we can really be playmates, and when you are old enough you shall be my wife.”

The Princess did not say no. She was delighted at the thought of having such a handsome playmate. And as for marrying him later on, she was quite willing for that, too.

So the Prince stayed there in the palace, and the King was very glad to think he was to have him for a son-in-law, and when he and the Princess were married, there was great rejoicing and feasting through all the kingdom.

The Prince, however, was not willing to stay away from his own kingdom any longer. He said he must return to see his old father.

One day a handsome golden coach drawn by eight white horses drove up to the door. It had been sent by the Prince’s father to fetch him home again. Upon the box rode the faithful servant who had cared for the Prince when he was a child.

When the Prince had been carried away by the fairy this faithful servant had grieved so bitterly he had feared his heart would break. To keep this from happening he had put three great iron bands around his body.

The Prince and the Princess entered the coach, and away went the horses. They had not driven far, however, when a loud crack was heard.

“What is that?” cried the Princess. “Surely something has broken.”

“Yes, mistress,” answered the faithful servant,

“It was a band that bound my heart.

My joy hath broken it apart.”

They drove a little farther, and then there came another crack, even louder than the first.

“Surely the coach is breaking down,” cried the Prince.

“Nay, master,” answered the faithful servant,

“’Tis but my joy that rives apart

The second band that held my heart.”

A little farther on there came a crack that was louder than any.

“Now surely something has broken,” cried the Prince and Princess together.

After that they drove on quietly until they reached their own country. There the Prince and Princess lived in happiness to the end of their lives, and the faithful servant with them.

THE WOLF AND THE FIVE LITTLE GOATS

There was once a mother goat who had five little kids, and these kids were so dear to her that nothing could have been dearer.

One day the mother goat was going to the forest to gather some wood for her fire. “Now, my little kids,” said she, “you must be very careful while I am away. Bar the door behind me, and open it to nobody until I return. If the wicked wolf should get in he would certainly eat you.”

The little kids promised they would be careful, and then their mother started out, and as soon as she had gone they barred the door behind her.

Now it so happened the old wolf was on the watch that day. He saw the mother goat trotting away toward the forest, and as soon as she was out of sight, he crept down to the house and knocked at the door — rap-tap-tap!

“Who is there?” called the little kids within.

“It is I, your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf in his great rough voice. “Open the door and let me in.”

But the kids were very clever little kids. “No, no,” they cried. “You are not our mother. Our mother has a soft, sweet voice, and your voice is harsh and rough. You must be the wolf.”

When the wolf heard this he was very angry. He battered and battered at the door, but they would not let him in. Then he turned and galloped away as fast as he could until he came to a dairy. There he stuck his head in at the window, and the woman had just finished churning her butter.

“Woman, woman,” cried the wolf, “give me some butter. If you do not I will come in and upset your churn.”

The woman was frightened. At once she gave him a great deal of butter — all he could eat.

The wolf swallowed it down, and then he ran back to the goat’s house and knocked at the door — rat-tat-rat!

“Who is there?” asked the little goats within.

“Your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf, and now his voice was very soft and smooth because of the butter he had swallowed.

“It is our mother,” cried the little kids, and they were about to open the door, but the littlest kid of all, who was a very wise little kid, stopped them.

“Wait a bit,” said he. “It sounds like our mother’s voice, but before we open the door we had better be very, very sure it is not the wolf.” Then he called through the door, “Put your paws up on the windowsill.”

The wolf suspected nothing. He put his paws up on the windowsill, and as soon as the little kids saw them they knew at once that it was not their mother. “No, no,” they cried, “you are not our mother. Our mother has pretty white feet, and your feet are as black as soot. You must be the wolf.”

When the wolf heard this he was angrier than ever. He turned and galloped away again, and as he galloped he growled to himself and gnashed his teeth.

Presently he came to a baker’s shop, and there he stuck his head in at the window.

“Baker, baker, give me some dough,” he cried. “If you do not I will upset your pans and spoil your baking.”

The baker was frightened. At once he gave the wolf all the dough he wanted. The wolf seized it and ran away with it. He ran until he came to the goat’s house. There he sat down and covered his black feet all over with the white dough. Then he knocked at the door — rat-tat-tat!

“Who is there?” cried the little goats within.

“Your mother, my dears, come home again,” answered the wolf, in his smooth buttery voice.

“Put your paws up on the windowsill.”

The wolf put his paws up on the windowsill, and they looked quite white because of the dough. Then the little kids felt sure it was their mother, and they gladly opened the door.

“Woof!” In bounded the wicked wolf.

The little goats cried out and away they ran, some in one direction, and some in another. They hid themselves one behind the door, and one in the dough-trough, and one in the wash-tub, and one under the bed, and one (and he was the littlest one of all) hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf stood there glaring about him, and not as much as a tail of one of them could he see.

Then he began to hunt about for them, but he had to be in a hurry, because he was afraid the mother goat would come home again.

He found the kid behind the door, and he was in such a hurry he swallowed it whole without hurting it in the least. He found the one in the wash-tub, and he swallowed it whole, too. He found the one in the dough-trough, and it, too, he swallowed whole. He found the one under the bed and he swallowed it whole. The only one he did not find was the one in the clock-case, and he never thought of looking there. He hunted around and hunted around, and he was afraid to stay any longer for fear their mother would come home.

But now the old wolf felt very heavy and sleepy. He looked around for a place to go in order to lie down and rest.

Not far away were some rocks and trees that made a pleasant shadow. Here the wolf stretched himself out, and presently he was snoring so loudly that the leaves of the trees shook overhead.

Soon after this the mother goat came home. As soon as she saw the door of the house standing open, she knew at once that some misfortune had happened. She went in and looked about her. The furniture was all upset and scattered about the room. “Alas, alas! My dear little kids!” cried the mother. “The wicked wolf has certainly been here and eaten them all.”

“He didn’t eat me,” said a little voice in the clock-case.

The mother goat opened the door of the clock-case and the littlest kid of all hopped out.

“But why were you in the clock-case? And what has happened?” asked the mother.

Then the little kid told her all about how the wolf had come there with his buttery voice and his whitened paws, and how they had let him in, and how he had swallowed all four of the other little kids, so that he alone was left.

After the mother goat had heard the story she went to the door and looked about. Then she heard the old wolf snoring where he lay asleep under the nut-trees in the shade of the rocks.

“That must be the old wolf snoring,” said the mother goat, “and he cannot be far away. Do not make a noise, my little kid, but come with me.”

The mother goat stole over to the heap of rocks, and the little kid followed her on tiptoes. She peeped and peered, and there lay the old wolf so fast asleep that nothing less than an earthquake would have wakened him.

“Now, my little kid,” whispered the mother, “run straight home again as fast as you can, and fetch me my shears and a needle and some stout thread.”

This the little kid did, and he ran so softly over the grass that not even a mouse could have heard him.

As soon as he returned the mother goat crept up to the old wolf, and with the sharp shears she slit his hide up just as though it had been a sack. Out popped one little kid, and out popped another little kid, and another, and another, and there they all were, just as safe and sound as though they had never been swallowed. And all this while the old wolf never stirred nor stopped snoring.

“And now, my little kids,” whispered the mother, “do you each one of you bring me a big round stone, but be very quick and quiet, for your lives depend upon it.”

So the little kids ran away, and hunted around, and each fetched her back a big round stone, and they were very quick and quiet about it, just as their mother had bade them be.

The old goat put the stones inside the wolf, where the little kids had been, and then she drew the hide together and sewed it up, using the stout, strong thread. After that she and the little kids hid themselves behind the rocks, and watched and waited.

Presently the old wolf yawned and opened his eyes. Then he got up and shook himself, and when he did so the stones inside him rattled together so that the goat and the little kids could hear them, where they hid behind the rocks.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” groaned the wolf;

Now what with the stones inside of him and the hot sun overhead the wolf grew very thirsty. Near by was a deep well, with water almost up to the brink of it. The old wolf went to drink. He leaned over, and all the stones rolled up to his head and upset him. Plump! he went down into the water, and the stones carried him straight to the bottom. He could not swim at all, and so he was drowned.

But all the little kids ran out from behind the rocks and began to dance around the well.

they sang, and the mother goat came and danced with them, they were all so delighted.

There was once an honest laborer who had three sons. The two eldest were stout clever lads, but as to the youngest one, John, he was little better than a simpleton.

One day their mother wanted some wood from the forest, and it was the eldest lad who was to go and get it for her. It was a long way to the forest, so the mother filled a wallet with food for him. There was a loaf of fine white bread, and a bit of cheese, and a leathern bottle of good red wine as well.

The lad set off and walked along and walked along and after awhile he came to the place where he was going, and there under a tree sat an old, old man. His clothes were gray, and his hair was gray, and his face was gray, so he was gray all over.

“Good-day,” said the man.

“Good-day,” said the lad.

“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite and sup that you can share with me?”

“Food I have, and drink too,” said the lad, “but it is for myself, and not for you. It would be a simple thing for me to carry it this far just to give it to a beggar”; and he went on his way.

But it was bad luck the lad had that day. Scarcely had he begun chopping wood when the head of the ax flew off, and cut his foot so badly that he was obliged to go limping home, with not even so much as a fagot to carry with him.

The next day it was the second son who said he would go to the forest for wood.

“And see that you are more careful than your brother,” said his mother. Then she gave him a loaf of bread, and a bit of cheese, and a bottle of wine, and off he set.

Presently he came to the forest, and there, sitting in the same place where he had sat before, was the old gray man.

“Good-day,” said the man.

“Good-day,” said the lad.

“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or a sup to share with me?”

“Food I have and drink as well, but I am not such a simpleton as to give it away when I need all for myself.”

The lad went on to the place where he was going, and took his ax and began to chop, but scarcely had he begun when the ax slipped and cut his leg so badly that the blood ran, and he could scarcely get home again.

That was a bad business, for now both of the elder brothers were lame.

The next day the simpleton said he would go to the forest for wood.

“You, indeed!” cried his mother. “It is not enough that your two brothers are hurt? Do you think you are smarter than they are? No, no; do you stay quietly here at home. That is the best place for you.”

But the simpleton was determined to go, so his mother gave him an end of dough that was left from the baking and a bottle of sour beer, for that was good enough for him. With these in his wallet John started off, and after awhile he came to the forest, and there was the gray man sitting just as before.

“Good-day,” said the man.

“Good-day,” answered the simpleton.

“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or sup that you can share with me?”

Oh yes, the simpleton had both food and drink in his wallet. It was none of the best, but such as it was he was willing to share it.

He reached into his wallet and pulled out the piece of dough, but what was his surprise to find that it was dough no longer, but a fine cake, all made of the whitest flour. The old man snatched the cake from John and ate it all up in a trice. There was not so much as a crumb of it left.

“Poor pickings for me!” said John.

And now the old gray man was thirsty. “What have you in that bottle?” he asked.

“Oh, that was only sour beer.”

The old man took the bottle and opened it. “Sour beer! Why it is wine,” he cried, “and of the very best, too.”

And the simpleton could tell it was by the smell of it. But the smell of it was all he got, for the old man raised the bottle to his lips, and when he put it down there was not a drop left in it.

“And now I may go thirsty as well as hungry,” said John.

“Never mind that,” said the old man. “After this you may eat and drink of the best whenever you will. Go on into the forest and take the first turning to the right. There you will see a hollow oak tree. Cut it down, and whatever you find inside of it you may keep; it belongs to me, and it is I who give it to you.”

Then of a sudden the old man was gone, and where he went the simpleton could have told no one.

The lad went on into the forest, as the gray man had told him, and took the first turn to the left, and there sure enough was a hollow oak tree. The lad could tell it was hollow from the sound it made when his ax struck it.

John set to work, and chopped so hard the splinters flew.

After awhile he cut through it so that the tree fell, and there, sitting in the hollow, was a goose, with eyes like diamonds, and every feather of pure gold.

When John saw the goose he could not wonder enough. He took it up under his arm and off he set for home, for there was no more chopping for him that day.

But if the goose shone like gold it weighed like lead. The farther John went the wearier he grew. After awhile he came to an inn, just outside of the city where the King lived. There the simpleton sat him down to rest. He pulled a feather from the golden goose, and gave it to the landlord and bade him bring him food and drink, and with such payment as that it was the very best that the landlord sat before him you may be sure.

While the simpleton ate and drank the landlord’s wife and daughter watched him from a window.

“Oh, if we only had a second feather,” sighed the daughter.

“Oh, if we only had!” sighed the mother.

Then the two agreed between them that when the simpleton had finished eating and drinking, the daughter should creep up behind him and pluck another feather from the bird.

Presently John could eat and drink no more. He rose up and tucked the golden goose under his arm, and off he set.

The landlord’s daughter was watching, and she stole up behind him and caught hold of a feather in the goose’s tail. No sooner had she touched it, however, than her fingers stuck, and she could not let go. Off marched John with the goose under his arm, and the girl tagging along after him.

The mother saw her following John down the road, and first she called, and then she shouted, and then she ran after her and caught hold of her to bring her home. But no sooner had she laid hands on the girl than she, too, stuck, and was obliged to follow John and the golden goose.

The landlord was looking from the window. “Wife, wife,” he cried, “where are you going?” And he hurried after her and caught her by the sleeve. Then he could not let go any more than the others.

The simpleton marched along with the three tagging at his heels, and he never so much as turned his head to look over his shoulder at them.

The road ran past a church, and there was the clergyman just coming out of the door. “Stop, stop!” he cried to the landlord. “Have you forgotten you have a christening feast to cook to-day?” And he ran after the landlord and caught hold of him, and then he too stuck.

The sexton saw his master following the landlord, and he ran and caught hold of his coat, and he too had to follow. So it went. Everyone who touched those who followed the golden goose could not let go, and were obliged to tag along at John’s heels.

Now the King of that country had a daughter who was so sad and doleful that she was never known to smile. For this reason a gloom hung over the whole country, and the King had promised that any one who could make the Princess laugh should have her as a wife and a half of the kingdom as well.

It so chanced the simpleton’s way led him through the city and by the time he came in front of the King’s palace the whole street was in an uproar, and John had a long train of people tagging along after him.

The Princess heard the noise in the room where she sat sighing and wiping her eyes, and as she was very curious she went to the window and looked out to see what all the uproar was about.

When she saw the simpleton marching along with a goose under his arm and a whole string of people after him, all crying and bawling and calling for help, it seemed to her the funniest thing she had ever seen. She began to laugh, and she laughed and laughed. She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks and she had to hold her sides for laughing.

But it was no laughing matter for the King, as you may believe. Here was a poor common lad, and a simpleton at that, who had made the Princess laugh; so now, by all rights, he might claim her for a wife, and the half of the kingdom, too.

The King frowned and bit his nails, and then he sent for John to be brought before him, and the lad came in alone, for he had set the people free at the gates.

“Listen, now,” said the King to John. “It is true I promised that anyone who made the Princess laugh should have her for a wife, but there is more to the matter than that. Before I hand over part of the kingdom to anyone, I must know what sort of friends he has, and whether they are good fellows. If you can bring here a man who can drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting then you shall have the Princess and part of the kingdom, just as promised; but if you cannot you shall be sent home with a good drubbing to keep you quiet.”

When John heard that he made a wry face. He did not know where he could find a man who could drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting.

He went out from the castle, and suddenly he remembered the old gray man who had given him the golden goose. If the old man had helped him once perhaps he might again.

He set out for the forest, and it was not long before he came to it. There, sitting where the old gray man had sat before, was a man with a sad and rueful face. He looked as though he had never smiled in all his life. He was talking to himself, and when the simpleton drew near he found the man was saying over and over, “How dry I am! How dry I am! Not even the dust of a summer’s day is as dry as I.”

“If you are so thirsty, friend,” said John, “rise up and follow me. Do you think you could drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting?”

Yes, the man could do that, and glad to get it, too. A whole cellar full of wine would be none too much to satisfy such a thirst as his.

“Then, come along,” said John.

He took the man back to the castle and down into the cellar where all the casks of wine were stored. When the man saw all that wine his eyes sparkled with joy. He sat him down to drink, and one after another he drained the casks until the very last one of them was empty. Then he stretched himself and sighed. “Now I am content,” said he.

As for the King his eyes bulged with wonder that any one man could drink so much at one sitting.

“Yes, that is all very well,” said he to the simpleton. “I see you have a friend who can drink. Have you also a friend who can eat a whole mountain of bread without stopping? If you have, you may claim the Princess for your wife, but if you have not, then you shall be sent home with a good drubbing.”

Well, that was not in the bargain, but perhaps the simpleton might be able to find such a man.

He set off for the forest once more, and when he came near the place where the thirsty man had sat he saw there another man, and he was enough like the thirsty man to be his brother.

As John came near to where he sat he heard him talking to himself, and what he was saying over-and-over was, “How hungry I am. Oh, how hungry I am.”

“Friend,” said the simpleton, “are you hungry enough to eat a whole mountain of bread? If you are I may satisfy you.”

Yes, a whole mountain of bread would be none too much for the hungry man.

So John bade the stranger follow him and then he led the way back to the castle.

There all the flour in the kingdom had been gathered together into one great enormous mountain of dough. When John saw how big it was his heart failed him.

“Can you eat that much?” he asked of the hungry man.

“Oh, yes, I can eat that much, and more, too, if need be,” said the man.

Then he sat down before the mountain of bread and began to eat. He ate and he ate, and he ate, and when he finished not so much as a crumb of bread was left.

As for the King he was a sad and sorry man. Not only was his daughter and part of the kingdom promised to a simpleton, but he had not even a cupful of flour left in the palace for his breakfast.

And still the King was not ready to keep the promises he had made. There was one thing more required of the simpleton before he could have the Princess and part of the kingdom for himself. Let him bring to the King a ship that would sail both on land and water, and he should at once marry the Princess, and no more words about it.

Well, John did not know about that, but he would do the best he could. He took the road that led back to the forest, and when he reached the place where the old man had sat, there was the old man sitting again just as though he had never moved from that one spot.

“Well,” said the old man, “and has the golden goose made your fortune?”

“That,” answered John, “is as it may be. It may be I am to have the half of a kingdom and a princess for a wife, and it may be that I am only to get a good drubbing. Before I win the Princess I must find a ship that will sail on land as well as on water, and if there is such a thing as that in the world I have never heard of it.”

“Well, there might be harder things than that to find,” said the old man. It might be he could help John out of that ditch, and what was more he would, too, and all that because John had once been kind to him. The old man then reached in under his coat and brought out the prettiest little model of a ship that ever was seen. Its sails were of silk, its hull of silver, and its masts of beaten gold.

The old man set the ship on the ground, and at once it began to grow. It grew and grew and grew, until it was so large that it could have carried a score of men if need be.

“Look,” said the old man. “This I give to you because you were kind to me and willing to share the best you had. Moreover it was I who drank the wine and ate the mountain of bread for you. Enter into the ship and it will carry you over land and water, and back to the King’s castle. And when he sees this ship he will no longer dare to refuse you the Princess for your wife.”

And so it was. John stepped into the ship and sailed away until he came to the King’s palace, and when the King saw the ship he was so delighted with it that he was quite willing to give the Princess to the simpleton for a bride.

The marriage was held with much feasting and rejoicing, and John’s father and mother and his two brothers were invited to the feast. But they no longer called him the simpleton; instead he was His Majesty, the wise King John.

As for the old gray man he was never seen again, and as the golden goose had disappeared also, perhaps he flew away on it.

There was once a girl who was so idle and lazy that she would do nothing but sit in the sunshine all day. She would not bake, she would not brew, she would not spin, she would not sew. One morning her mother lost patience with her entirely, and gave her a good beating. The girl cried out until she could be heard even into the street.

Now it so chanced the queen of the country was driving by at that time, and she heard the cries. She wished to find out what the trouble was, so she stopped her coach and entered the house. She went through one room after another, and presently she came to where the girl and her mother were.

“What is all this noise?” she asked. “Why is your daughter crying out?”

The mother was ashamed to confess what a lazy girl she had for a daughter, so she told the queen what was not true.

“Oh, your majesty,” cried she, “this girl is the worry of my life. She will do nothing but spin all day, and I have spent all my money buying flax for her. This morning she asked me for more, but I have no money left to buy it. It was because of that she began to cry, as you heard.”

The Queen was very much surprised. “This girl of yours must be a very fine spinner,” she said. “You must bring her to the palace, for there is nothing I love better than spinning. Bring her to-morrow, and if she is as wonderful a spinner as I suspect, she shall be to me as my own daughter, and shall have my eldest son as a husband.”

When the girl heard she was to go to the palace and spin she was terrified. She had never spun a thread in her life, and she feared that when the Queen found this out she would be angry and would have her punished. However, she dared say nothing.

The next day she and her mother went to the palace, and the Queen received them kindly. The mother was sent home again, but the daughter was taken to a tower where there were three great rooms all filled with flax.

“See,” said the Queen. “Here is enough flax to satisfy you for awhile at least. When you have spun this you shall marry my son, and after that you shall have all the flax you want. Now you may begin, and to-morrow I will come to see how much you have done.”

So saying the Queen went away, closing the door behind her.

No sooner was the girl alone than she burst into tears. Not if she lived a hundred years could she spin all that flax. She sat and cried and cried and cried.

The next morning the Queen came back to see how much she had done. She was very much surprised to find the flax untouched, and the girl sitting there with idle hands. “How is this?” she asked. “Why are you not at your spinning?”

The girl began to make excuses. “I was so sad at being parted from my mother that I could do nothing but sit and weep.”

“I see you have a tender heart,” said the Queen. “But to-morrow you must begin to work. When I come again I shall expect to see a whole roomful done.”

After she had gone the girl began to weep again. She did not know what was to become of her.

Suddenly the door opened, and three ugly old women slipped into the room. The first had a splayfoot. The second had a lip that hung down on her chin. The third had a hideous broad thumb.

The girl looked at them with fear and wonder. “Who are you?” she asked.

The one with the splayfoot answered. “We are three spinners. We know why you are weeping, and we have come to help you, but before we help you, you must promise us one thing: that is that when you are married to the Prince, we may come to your wedding feast, that you will let us sit at your table, and that you will call us your aunts.”

“Yes, yes; I will, I will,” cried the girl. She was ready to promise anything if they would only help her.

At once the splayfoot sat down at the wheel, and began to spin and tread. She with the hanging lip moistened the thread, and the woman with the broad thumb pressed and twisted it. They worked so fast that the thread flowed on like a swift stream. Before the next evening they had finished the whole roomful of flax.

When the Queen came again she was delighted to find so much done. “To-morrow,” said she, “you shall begin in the second room.”

The next day the girl was taken into the second room, and it was larger than the first and was also full of flax.

Scarcely had the Queen left her when the door was pushed open, and the three old women came into the room.

“Remember your promise,” said they.

“I remember,” answered the girl.

The old women then took their places and began to spin. Before the next evening they had finished all the flax that was in the room.

When the Queen came to look at what had been done, she was filled with wonder. Not only had all the flax in the room been spun, but she had never seen such smooth and even threads.

“To-morrow,” said she, “you shall spin the flax that is in the third room, and the day after you shall be married to my son.”

The third day all happened just as it had before. The girl was taken to the third room and it was even larger than the others. Scarcely had she been left alone when the three old women opened the door and came in.

“Remember your promise,” said they.

“I will remember,” answered the girl.

The old women took their places, and before night all the flax was spun. Then they rose. “To-morrow will be your wedding day, and we will be at the feast. If you keep your word to us, all will go well with you, but if you forget it, misfortune will surely come upon you.” Then they disappeared through the door as they had come, the eldest first.

When the Queen came that evening she was even more delighted than before. Never had she seen such thread, so smooth it was and even.

The girl was led down from the tower and dressed in silks and velvets and jewels, and when thus dressed she was so beautiful that the Prince was filled with love and joy at the sight of her. The next day they were married, and a grand feast was spread. To this feast all the noblest in the land were invited.

The bride sat beside her husband, and he could look at no one else, she was so beautiful.

Just as the feast was about to begin the door opened and the three old women who had spun the flax came in.

The Prince looked at them wonderingly. Never had he seen such hideous, ugly creatures before. “Who are these?” he asked of the girl.

“These,” said she, “are my three old aunts, and I have promised they shall sit at the table with us, for they have been so kind to me that no one could be kinder.”

The girl then rose, and went to meet the old women. “Welcome, my aunts,” she said, and led them to the table. The Prince loved the girl so dearly that all she did seemed right to him. He commanded that places should be put for the old women, and they sat at the table with him and his bride.

They were so hideous, however, that the Prince could not keep his eyes off them. At length he said to the eldest, “Forgive me, good mother, but why is your foot so broad?”

“From treading the thread, my son, from treading the thread,” she answered.

The Prince wondered; he turned to the second old woman. “And you, good mother,” he said, “why does your lip hang down?”

“From wetting the thread,” she answered. “From wetting the thread.”

The Prince was frightened. He spoke to the third old woman. “And you, why is your thumb so broad, if I may ask it?”

“From pressing and twisting,” she answered. “From pressing and twisting.”

The Prince turned pale. “If this is what comes of spinning,” said he, “never shall my bride touch the flax again.”

And so it was. Never was the girl allowed even to look at a spinning wheel again; and that did not trouble her, as you may guess.

As for the old women, they disappeared as soon as the feast was over, and no one saw them again, but the bride lived happy forever after.

 

There was once a little girl whose hair was so bright and yellow that it glittered in the sun like spun-gold. For this reason she was called Goldilocks.

One day Goldilocks went out into the meadows to gather flowers. She wandered on and on, and after a while she came to a forest, where she had never been before. She went on into the forest, and it was very cool and shady.

Presently she came to a little house, standing all alone in the forest, and as she was tired and thirsty she knocked at the door. She hoped the good people inside would give her a drink, and let her rest a little while.

Now, though Goldilocks did not know it, this house belonged to three bears. There was a GREAT BIG FATHER BEAR, and a middling-sized mother bear, and a dear little baby bear, no bigger than Goldilocks herself. But the three bears had gone out to take a walk in the forest while their supper was cooling, so when Goldilocks knocked at the door no one answered her.

She waited awhile and then she knocked again, and as still nobody answered her she pushed the door open and stepped inside. There in a row stood three chairs. One was a GREAT BIG CHAIR, and it belonged to the father bear. And one was a middling-sized chair, and it belonged to the mother bear, and one was a dear little chair, and it belonged to the baby bear. And on the table stood three bowls of smoking hot porridge. “And so,” thought Goldilocks, “the people must be coming back soon to eat it.”

She thought she would sit down and rest until they came, so first she sat down in the GREAT BIG CHAIR, but the cushion was too soft. It seemed as though it would swallow her up. Then she sat down in the middle-sized chair, and the cushion was too hard, and it was not comfortable. Then she sat down in the dear little chair, and it was just right, and fitted her as though it had been made for her. So there she sat, and she rocked and she rocked, and she sat and she sat, until with her rocking and her sitting she sat the bottom right out of it.

And still nobody had come, and there stood the bowls of porridge on the table. “They can’t be very hungry people,” thought Goldilocks to herself, “or they would come home to eat their suppers.” And she went over to the table just to see whether the bowls were full.

The first bowl was a GREAT BIG BOWL with a GREAT BIG WOODEN SPOON in it, and that was the father bear’s bowl. The second bowl was a middle-sized bowl, with a middle-sized wooden spoon in it, and that was the mother bear’s bowl. And the third bowl was a dear little bowl, with a dear little silver spoon in it, and that was the baby bear’s bowl.

The porridge that was in the bowls smelled so very good that Goldilocks thought she would just taste it.

She took up the GREAT BIG SPOON, and tasted the porridge in the GREAT BIG BOWL, but it was too hot. Then she took up the middle-sized spoon and tasted the porridge in the middle-sized bowl, and it was too cold. Then she took up the little silver spoon and tasted the porridge in the dear little bowl, and it was just right, and it tasted so good that she tasted and tasted, and tasted and tasted until she tasted it all up.

After that she felt very sleepy, so she went upstairs and looked about her, and there were three beds all in a row. The first bed was the GREAT BIG BED that belonged to the father bear. And the second bed was a middling-sized bed that belonged to the mother bear, and the third bed was a dear little bed that belonged to the dear little baby bear.

Goldilocks lay down on the GREAT BIG BED to try it, but the pillow was too high, and she wasn’t comfortable at all.

Then she lay down on the middle-sized bed, and the pillow was too low, and that wasn’t comfortable either.

Then she lay down on the little baby bear’s bed and it was exactly right, and so very comfortable that she lay there and lay there until she went fast asleep.

Now while Goldilocks was still asleep in the little bed the three bears came home again, and as soon as they stepped inside the door and looked about them they knew that somebody had been there.

“SOMEBODY’S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR,” growled the father bear in his great big voice, “AND LEFT THE CUSHION CROOKED.”

“And somebody’s been sitting in my chair,” said the mother bear, “and left it standing crooked.”

“And somebody’s been sitting in my chair,” squeaked the baby bear, in his shrill little voice, “and they’ve sat and sat till they’ve sat the bottom out”; and he felt very sad about it.

Then the three bears went over to the table to get their porridge.

“WHAT’S THIS!” growled the father bear, in his great big voice, “SOMEBODY’S BEEN TASTING MY PORRIDGE, AND LEFT THE SPOON ON THE TABLE.”

“And somebody’s been taking my porridge,” said the mother bear in her middle-sized voice, “and they’ve splashed it over the side.”

“And somebody’s been tasting my porridge,” squealed the baby bear, “and they’ve tasted and tasted until they’ve tasted it all up.” And when he said so the baby bear looked as if he were about to cry.

“If somebody’s been here they must be here still,” said the mother bear; so the three bears went upstairs to look.

First the father bear looked at his bed. “SOMEBODY’S BEEN LYING ON MY BED AND PULLED THE COVERS DOWN,” he growled in his great big voice.

Then the mother bear looked at her bed. “Somebody’s been lying on my bed and pulled the pillow off,” said she in her middle-sized voice.

Then the baby bear looked at his bed, and there lay little Goldilocks with her cheeks as pink as roses, and her golden hair all spread over the pillow.

“Somebody’s been lying in my bed,” squeaked the baby bear joyfully, “and here she is still!”

Now when Goldilocks in her dreams heard the great big father bear’s voice she dreamed it was the thunder rolling through the heavens.

And when she heard the mother bear’s middle-sized voice she dreamed it was the wind blowing through the trees.

But when she heard the baby bear’s voice it was so shrill and sharp that it woke her right up. She sat up in bed and there were the three bears standing around and looking at her.

“Oh, my goodness me!” cried Goldilocks. She tumbled out of bed and ran to the window. It was open, and out she jumped before the bears could stop her. Then home she ran as fast as she could, and she never went near the forest again. But the little baby bear cried and cried because he had wanted the pretty little girl to play with.

A mother pig and her three little pigs lived together in a wood very happily all through the long summertime, but towards autumn the mother pig called her little ones to her and said, “My dear little pigs, the time has come for you to go out into the world and seek your own fortunes. You will each want to build a little house to live in, but do not build them of straw or leaves; straws are brittle and leaves are frail. Build your houses of bricks, for then you will always have a safe place to live in; you can go in and lock the door, and nothing can harm you.” She then bade the little pigs farewell, and away they ran out into the world to make their fortunes.

The first little pig had not gone far when he met a man with a load of straw. The straw looked so warm, and smelled so good that the little pig quite forgot what his mother had told him.

“Please, Mr. Man,” said the little pig, “give me enough straw to build a house to keep me warm through the long winter.”

The man did not say no. He gave the little pig all the straw he wanted, and then he drove on.

The little pig built himself a house of straw, and it was so warm and cosy that he was quite delighted with it. “How much better,” said he “than a house of cold hard bricks.”

So he lay there snug and warm, and presently the old wolf knocked at the door.

“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in!” he cried.

“I won’t, by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,” answered the pig.

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

The little pig laughed aloud, for he felt very safe in his snug straw house.

“Well, then huff, and then puff, and then blow my house in!” he cried.

Well, the old wolf did huff and puff, and he did blow the house in, for it was only made of straw, and then he ate up the pig.

The second little pig when he left the forest ran along and ran along and presently he met a man with a great load of leaves.

“Oh, kind Mr. Man, please give me some leaves to build me a little house for the winter time,” cried the piggy.

The man was willing to do this. He gave the pig all the leaves he wanted, and then he went on his way.

The pig built himself a house of leaves and it was even snugger and warmer than the straw house had been. “How silly my mother was,” said the pig, “to tell me to build a brick house. What could be warmer and cosier and safer than this.” And he snuggled down among the leaves and was very happy.

Presently along came the great wolf, and he stopped and knocked at the door.

“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in!” he cried.

“I won’t, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

The little pig laughed when he heard that, for the walls were thick, and he felt secure.

“Well, then huff, and then puff, and then blow my house in.”

So the wolf huffed, and he puffed, and he did blow the house in, and he ate up the little pig that was inside of it.

Now the third little pig was the smallest pig of all, but he was a very wise little pig, and he meant to do exactly as his mother had told him to do. After he left the forest he met a man driving a wagon-load of straw, but he did not ask for any of it. He met the man with the load of leaves, but he did not ask for any of it. He met a man with a load of bricks, and then he stopped and begged so prettily for enough bricks to build himself a little house that the man could not refuse him.

The pig took the bricks and built himself a little red house with them, and it was not an easy task either. When it was done it was not so soft as the little straw house, and it was not so warm as the little leaf house, but it was a very safe little house.

Presently the old wolf came along and knocked at the door — rat-tat-tat!

“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in,” he called.

“I won’t, by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

“Well, then huff, and then puff, and then blow my house in,” answered the pig.

So the old wolf huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed, and he HUFFED AND HE PUFFED till he almost split his sides, and he just couldn’t blow the house in, and the little pig laughed to himself as he sat safe and comfortable inside there.

The old wolf saw there was nothing to be done by blowing, so he sat down and thought and thought. Then he said, “Piggy-wig, I know where there is a field of fine turnips.”

“Where?” asked the little pig.

“Open the door and I will tell you.”

No, the little pig could hear quite well with the door closed.

“It is just up the road three fields away,” said the wolf, “and if you would like to have some I will come for you at six o’clock to-morrow morning, and we will go and dig them up together.”

“At six o’clock!” said the little pig. “Very well.”

Then the old wolf trotted off home, licking his lips, and he was well content, for he thought he would have pig for breakfast the next day.

But the next morning the little pig was up and astir by five o’clock. Off he trotted to the turnip field and gathered a whole bagful of turnips and was home again before the old wolf thought of coming.

At six o’clock the old wolf knocked at the door.

“Are you ready to go for the turnips, Piggy?” he cried.

“Ready!” answered the pig. “Why I was up and off to the field an hour ago and I have all the turnips I want, and I’m boiling them for breakfast.”

“That’s what you did!” said the wolf. And then he thought a bit. “Piggy, do you like fine ripe apples?” he asked.

Yes, the pig was very fond of apples.

“Then I can tell you where to find some.”

“Where is that?”

“Over beyond the hill in the squire’s orchard, and if you will play me no tricks I will come for you at five o’clock to-morrow, and we will go together, and gather some.”

Very well; the pig would be ready.

So the wolf trotted off home, and this time he was very sure that he would have a nice fat little piggy for breakfast the next morning.

The little pig got up at four o’clock the next day, and off he started for the orchard as fast as his four little feet would carry him. But the way was long, and the tree was hard to climb, and while he was still up among the branches gathering apples the old wolf came trotting into the orchard. The little pig was very much frightened, but he kept very still and hoped, up among the leaves, the wolf would not see him.

The wolf peered about, first up one tree and then up another, and finally he spied the piggy up among the branches.

“Why did you not wait for me?”

“Oh, I knew you would be along presently.”

“How soon are you coming down?”

“When I have picked a few more apples.”

The old wolf sat down at the foot of the tree, and the pig sat up among the branches crunching apples and smacking his lips.

“Are they good?” asked the wolf looking up; and his mouth watered.

Yes, they were very good.

“Could you not throw one down to me?”

Yes, the little pig could do that.

He picked the biggest, reddest apple he could, and then he threw it, but he threw it far off, and in such a way that it went bounding and rolling down the hill slope. The wolf bounded down the hill after it, and while he was catching it, the little pig climbed down the tree and ran safely home with his basketful of apples.

When the old wolf found the pig had tricked him again he was very angry. He was more determined than ever that he would catch the little pig. He trotted off to the little red house and knocked at the door.

“Did you get all the apples you wanted?” asked the wolf.

Yes, the little pig had all he wanted, and he was very much obliged to the wolf for telling him about the orchard.

“Listen, Piggy, there’s to be a fine fair over in the town to-morrow,” said the wolf. “Wouldn’t you like to go?”

Yes, the little pig would like very much to go.

“Very well,” said the wolf. “Then I will come for you at half-past three to-morrow, and we will go together.”

“Very well,” said the little pig. But long before half-past three the next day, piggy was off to the fair, and he took four bright silver pieces with him, for he wanted to buy himself a butter-churn. It did not take him long to buy the churn, and then he started home again, carrying it on his back.

But the wolf had learned a thing or two about the little pig’s tricks. He, too, started off to the fair long before half-past three, and so it was that the little pig was scarcely half-way home, and had just reached the top of a high hill, when he saw the wolf come trotting up the hill directly toward him. The little pig was terrified. He looked all around but he could not see any place to hide. He decided the best thing he could do was to get inside the churn. So he put it down and crept inside it. But the hill was very steep, and no sooner was the piggy inside the churn than it began to roll down the hill slope bumpety-bumpety-bump, over rocks and stones, leaping and bounding like a live thing. The little pig did not know what was happening to him. He began to squeal at the top of his voice.

The old wolf was half-way up the hill when he heard the noise. He looked up, and there was a great round thing coming bounding over the rocks straight at him, and squeaking and squeaking as it came. He gave one look and his hair bristled with fear, and with a howl he turned tail and ran home as fast as he could. He never stopped till he was safe inside his house, and had shut and locked the door behind him. There he crouched, trembling and wondering what would happen. But nothing happened, and all was quiet, so after awhile the wolf ventured out and ran over to the pig’s house.

“Piggy, Piggy! Are you in there?”

Yes, the little pig was sitting by the fire roasting apples.

“Then, listen while I tell you what happened to me on the way to the fair.” Then the wolf put his nose close to the crack of the door, and told the little pig all about the great round squealing thing that had chased him down the hill.

The little pig laughed and laughed. “And I can tell you exactly what the great squealing thing was; it was a churn I had bought at the fair, and I was inside it.”

When the old wolf heard this he was so furious that he determined to have the little pig whether or no, even if he had to climb up on the roof and down the chimney to get him. He stuck his sharp nails in between the bricks of the house and climbed right up the side of it and onto the roof. Then he climbed up on the chimney and slid down it into the fire-place.

But the little pig had heard what he was doing, and was ready for him. He had a great pot of boiling water on the fire, and when he heard the wolf slipping and scrabbling down the chimney he took the lid off the kettle, and plump! the old wolf fell right into the boiling water. Then the little pig clapped the lid tight down over him, and that was the end of the wolf.

But the little pig lived on in peace and plenty forever after, and if any other wolf ever came along to bother him I never heard of it.

It was winter, and a little lad had gone out into the forest to gather wood to keep the fire going at home. As there was snow upon the ground he took his little sledge with him, for he could carry home a larger load on the sledge than on his back.

He gathered together a heap of fallen branches, and then piled them neatly on the sledge, putting the larger pieces at the bottom. Before he had finished the task his fingers were almost frozen, for he had no mittens. “Before I start to drag my sled home,” said he to himself, “I will build a fire and warm my hands a bit.”

He took a stick, and cleared away some of the snow, so as to have a place to build the fire. When he had done this he saw a little golden key lying there on the ground. The little lad picked it up, wondering. “Wherever there is a key, there must be a lock,” he said.

He began to scrape away the earth, and presently he found a curious looking chest made of iron inlaid with silver. There were words written on the lid of the chest, but the little boy could not read them.

He lifted the chest out from the earth, and it seemed to him that something was stirring inside of it. Then a little thin voice, as thin as a thread, cried to him. “Let me out! Let me out, and I will make your fortune.”

The little boy was very much surprised. The chest seemed too small for any living being to be in it.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Open the chest and see. If you will only let me out you will never be sorry.”

The little boy put the golden key in the lock and it fitted exactly. He turned it round and the lock flew back. But as to what was in the chest you will have to wait until he lifts the lid before you can see.

There was once a widow who had two daughters; the elder of the girls was cross and ugly, but the mother loved her dearly because she was exactly like herself, and also because she was her own daughter. The younger girl was only her stepdaughter, and because of this, and also because the girl was good and pretty the mother hated her, and did all she could to make her miserable.

One day the good daughter sat by the well spinning, and as she spun she wept because she was so unhappy. The tears blinded her eyes, and presently she pricked her finger, and a drop of blood fell on the flax. The girl was frightened, for she feared her stepmother would scold her when she saw the flax, so she stooped over the edge of the well to try to wash the blood off it. But the spindle slipped from her hand and sank down and down through the water until it was lost to sight.

That was worse than ever; the girl did not know what her stepmother would do to her when she heard the spindle had been lost down the well. Still she was obliged to confess.

The widow was indeed very angry.

“You good-for-nothing!” she cried. “You are the trouble of my life. Out of my sight, and do not dare to return until you can bring the spindle with you,” and she gave the girl a push so that she almost fell over.

The girl was so frightened and unhappy that she ran out of the door; without stopping to think, she jumped into the well. Down, down she sank, through the waters, just as the spindle had done, and when she reached the bottom she found herself in a broad green meadow with a road leading across it.

The girl followed the road, and presently she came to a baker’s oven that stood beside the way, and it was full of bread. The girl was about to pass by, but the loaves inside called to her, “Take us out! Take us out! If we are left in the oven any longer we will burn.”

She was surprised to hear the bread speak to her, but she opened the door and drew the loaves out, and set them neatly on end to cool. Then she went on.

A little farther, she came to an apple-tree. It was so loaded down with fruit that the branches bent with the weight of it.

“Shake me! Shake me!” cried the apple-tree. “My apples are ripe and my boughs are like to break with the weight of them.”

The girl shook the apple-tree till the apples fell about her in a shower. She piled the apples neatly about the tree and went on her way.

 After awhile she came to a little house, and an ugly old woman with long yellow teeth was looking out of the window. The girl was frightened at the old woman’s looks, and was about to turn away, but the woman called to her, “Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I need a serving-maid. Come in, and if you serve me faithfully I will reward you well.”

The girl did not feel afraid any longer. She opened the door and went in.

The old woman took her upstairs and showed her a great feather bed. “I am Mother Hulda,” said she. “It is I who send out the frost and snow over the world. Every day you must give my bed a good beating. Then, when the feathers fly, it snows upon the earth.”

The girl stayed with Mother Hulda many months. Every day she gave the bed such a good beating that the feathers flew, and there was much snow that year. Mother Hulda was very much pleased with her. She was kind to her, and the girl had all she wanted to eat, and that of the best, and a comfortable bed to sleep in; but all the same, by the time the winter was over she began to feel sad and dull. She longed to see her home and her mother and sister, too, even though they were unkind to her.

“Now I see it is time for you to go back to the earth again,” said Mother Hulda. “You have served me well and faithfully, and you shall be rewarded as I promised you.”

She then opened a closet door and brought out the girl’s spindle and gave it to her. After that she took the girl by the hand and led her out of the house and along a road to a great gate that stood open.

“There lies your way,” said Mother Hulda.

The girl passed out through the gate, and as she did so a shower of gold fell all about her like rain, and stuck to her so that she glittered from head to foot with gold; even her shoes and her clothes were golden.

“That is my reward to you because you have been a good servant,” cried Mother Hulda. Then the gate closed, and the girl ran along the road and quickly came to the house of her stepmother.

As she entered the gate the cock crowed loudly, “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Our golden girl’s come home again.”

She entered the house, and now her mother and sister were glad to see her because she was covered with gold. They asked her where she had been and who had given her all that treasure.

The girl told them. Then they were filled with envy.

“Here! Take your spindle,” cried the widow to her own daughter. “Throw it in the well and jump down after it. If Mother Hulda has rewarded your sister in this way what will she not do for you? No doubt you will come home all covered with diamonds and rubies.”

The ugly girl took her spindle and threw it down the well, as her mother bade her, and jumped in after it. Down, down she went, just as her sister had done, and there was the green meadow with the road leading across it.

The girl hurried along the road, for she was in haste to reach Mother Hulda’s house and get a reward, and presently she came to the oven.

“Take us out! Take us out!” cried the loaves inside. “We will burn if we are left in here any longer.”

“Why should I blacken my hands for you?” cried the girl. “Stay where you are, and if you burn no one will be the worse for it but yourselves.” And so saying she went on her way.

A little farther she came to the apple-tree, and its boughs were bent with the weight of the fruit it bore.

“Shake me! Shake me!” cried the apple-tree. “My fruit is ripe, and my boughs are like to break with the weight of it.”

“Not I!” cried the girl. “I will not shake you. Suppose one of the apples should fall upon my head. Your boughs may break for all of me!” And so she went on her way, munching an apple that she had picked up from off the ground.

It was not long before she came to Mother Hulda’s house, and there was Mother Hulda herself looking out of the window. The ugly girl was not afraid of her and her long teeth, for the good sister had already told her about them. She marched up to the door and opened it as bold as bold.

“I have come to take service with you,” she said, “and to get the reward.”

“Very well,” answered Mother Hulda. “If you serve me well and faithfully the reward shall not be lacking.”

She then took the ugly girl upstairs and showed her the bed, and told her how she was to shake and beat it. Then she left her there.

The ugly girl began to beat the bed, but she soon tired of it and came downstairs and asked if supper were ready. Mother Hulda frowned, but she said nothing, and she gave the girl a good supper of bread and meat.

The next day the ugly girl hardly beat the bed at all, and the next day it was still worse. At the end of the week hardly a flake of snow had floated out over the world.

“You will never do for me,” said Mother Hulda. “You will have to go.”

“Very well,” answered the girl. “I am willing, but give me my reward first.”

“Yes, you shall have your reward,” said Mother Hulda, “and you deserve it.”

She opened the closet and took out the spindle and gave it to her, and led her along the road to the open gate. The girl was very much pleased. “Now in a moment,” thought she, “I will be all covered with gold the way my sister was, unless I am covered with diamonds and rubies.”

“There lies your way,” cried Mother Hulda.

The girl ran through the gate, but instead of gold or precious stones, a shower of soot fell over her so that she was black from head to foot.

“That is the reward of your services,” cried Mother Hulda to the girl, and then she banged the gate and locked it so that the girl could not come back.

So the lazy daughter ran home, crying, and as she entered the gate the cock crowed loudly, “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Our sooty girl’s come home again.”

And try as she might the ugly girl could never get the soot entirely off her. But as to the good sister she was married to a great nobleman, and lived happy ever after.