How To Tell Stories To Children [23]
spun, and spun, and spun, faster, and faster, and faster, the poor little Red Hen got so dizzy watching him that she couldn't hold on to the perch. She dropped off, and the old Fox picked her up and put her in his bag, slung the bag over his shoulder, and started for home, where the kettle was boiling.
He had a very long way to go, up hill, and the little Red Hen was still so dizzy that she didn't know where she was. But when the dizziness began to go off, she whisked her little scissors out of her apron pocket, and snip! she cut a little hole in the bag; then she poked her head out and saw where she was, and as soon as they came to a good spot she cut the hole bigger and jumped out herself. There was a great big stone lying there, and the little Red Hen picked it up and put it in the bag as quick as a wink. Then she ran as fast as she could till she came to her own little farm- house, and she went in and locked the door with the big key.
The old Fox went on carrying the stone and never knew the difference. My, but it bumped him well! He was pretty tired when he got home. But he was so pleased to think of the supper he was going to have that he did not mind that at all. As soon as his mother opened the door he said, "Is the kettle boiling?"
"Yes," said his mother; "have you got the little Red Hen?"
"I have," said the old Fox. "When I open the bag you hold the cover off the kettle and I'll shake the bag so that the Hen will fall in, and then you pop the cover on, before she can jump out."
"All right," said his mean old mother; and she stood close by the boiling kettle, ready to put the cover on.
The Fox lifted the big, heavy bag up till it was over the open kettle, and gave it a shake. Splash! thump! splash! In went the stone and out came the boiling water, all over the old Fox and the old Fox's mother!
And they were scalded to death.
But the little Red Hen lived happily ever after, in her own little farmhouse.
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN[1]
[1] From Horace E. Scudder's Doings of the Bodley Family in Town and Country (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.).
There was once't upon a time A little small Rid Hin, Off in the good ould country Where yees ha' nivir bin.
Nice and quiet shure she was, And nivir did any harrum; She lived alane all be herself, And worked upon her farrum.
There lived out o'er the hill, In a great din o' rocks, A crafty, shly, and wicked Ould folly iv a Fox.
This rashkill iv a Fox, He tuk it in his head He'd have the little Rid Hin: So, whin he wint to bed,
He laid awake and thaught What a foine thing 'twad be To fetch her home and bile her up For his ould marm and he.
And so he thaught and thaught, Until he grew so thin That there was nothin' left of him But jist his bones and shkin.
But the small Rid Hin was wise, She always locked her door, And in her pocket pit the key, To keep the Fox out shure.
But at last there came a schame Intil his wicked head, And he tuk a great big bag And to his mither said,--
"Now have the pot all bilin' Agin the time I come; We'll ate the small Rid Hin to-night, For shure I'll bring her home."
And so away he wint Wid the bag upon his back, An' up the hill and through the woods Saftly he made his track.
An' thin he came alang, Craping as shtill's a mouse, To where the little small Rid Hin Lived in her shnug ould house.
An' out she comes hersel', Jist as he got in sight, To pick up shticks to make her fire: "Aha!" says Fox, "all right.
"Begorra, now, I'll have yees Widout much throuble more;" An' in he shlips quite unbeknownst, An' hides be'ind the door.
An' thin, a minute afther, In comes the small Rid Hin, An' shuts the door, and locks it, too, An' thinks, "I'm safely in."
An' thin she tarns around An' looks be'ind the door; There shtands the Fox wid his big tail Shpread out upon the floor.
Dear me! she was so schared Wid such a wondrous sight, She dropped her apronful
He had a very long way to go, up hill, and the little Red Hen was still so dizzy that she didn't know where she was. But when the dizziness began to go off, she whisked her little scissors out of her apron pocket, and snip! she cut a little hole in the bag; then she poked her head out and saw where she was, and as soon as they came to a good spot she cut the hole bigger and jumped out herself. There was a great big stone lying there, and the little Red Hen picked it up and put it in the bag as quick as a wink. Then she ran as fast as she could till she came to her own little farm- house, and she went in and locked the door with the big key.
The old Fox went on carrying the stone and never knew the difference. My, but it bumped him well! He was pretty tired when he got home. But he was so pleased to think of the supper he was going to have that he did not mind that at all. As soon as his mother opened the door he said, "Is the kettle boiling?"
"Yes," said his mother; "have you got the little Red Hen?"
"I have," said the old Fox. "When I open the bag you hold the cover off the kettle and I'll shake the bag so that the Hen will fall in, and then you pop the cover on, before she can jump out."
"All right," said his mean old mother; and she stood close by the boiling kettle, ready to put the cover on.
The Fox lifted the big, heavy bag up till it was over the open kettle, and gave it a shake. Splash! thump! splash! In went the stone and out came the boiling water, all over the old Fox and the old Fox's mother!
And they were scalded to death.
But the little Red Hen lived happily ever after, in her own little farmhouse.
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN[1]
[1] From Horace E. Scudder's Doings of the Bodley Family in Town and Country (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.).
There was once't upon a time A little small Rid Hin, Off in the good ould country Where yees ha' nivir bin.
Nice and quiet shure she was, And nivir did any harrum; She lived alane all be herself, And worked upon her farrum.
There lived out o'er the hill, In a great din o' rocks, A crafty, shly, and wicked Ould folly iv a Fox.
This rashkill iv a Fox, He tuk it in his head He'd have the little Rid Hin: So, whin he wint to bed,
He laid awake and thaught What a foine thing 'twad be To fetch her home and bile her up For his ould marm and he.
And so he thaught and thaught, Until he grew so thin That there was nothin' left of him But jist his bones and shkin.
But the small Rid Hin was wise, She always locked her door, And in her pocket pit the key, To keep the Fox out shure.
But at last there came a schame Intil his wicked head, And he tuk a great big bag And to his mither said,--
"Now have the pot all bilin' Agin the time I come; We'll ate the small Rid Hin to-night, For shure I'll bring her home."
And so away he wint Wid the bag upon his back, An' up the hill and through the woods Saftly he made his track.
An' thin he came alang, Craping as shtill's a mouse, To where the little small Rid Hin Lived in her shnug ould house.
An' out she comes hersel', Jist as he got in sight, To pick up shticks to make her fire: "Aha!" says Fox, "all right.
"Begorra, now, I'll have yees Widout much throuble more;" An' in he shlips quite unbeknownst, An' hides be'ind the door.
An' thin, a minute afther, In comes the small Rid Hin, An' shuts the door, and locks it, too, An' thinks, "I'm safely in."
An' thin she tarns around An' looks be'ind the door; There shtands the Fox wid his big tail Shpread out upon the floor.
Dear me! she was so schared Wid such a wondrous sight, She dropped her apronful