İngilizce Masallar

The Old Dame and Her Hen
Once on a time there was an old widow who lived far away from the rest of the world, up under a hill-side, with her three daughters. She was so poor that she had no stock but one single hen, which she prized as the apple of her eye; in short, it was always cackling at her heels, and she was always running to look after it. Well! one day, all at once, the hen was missing. The old wife went out, and round and round the cottage, looking and calling for her hen, but it was gone, and there was no getting it back.

So the woman said to her eldest daughter, "You must just go out and see if you can find our hen, for have it back we must, even if we have to fetch it out of the hill."

Well! the daughter was ready enough to go, so she set off and walked up and down, and looked and called, but no hen could she find. But all at once, just as she was about to give up the hunt, she heard some one calling out in a cleft in the rock--

"Your hen trips inside the hill!

Your hen trips inside the hill!"

So she went into the cleft to see what it was, but she had scarce set her foot inside the cleft, before she fell through a trap-door, deep, deep down, into a vault under ground. When she got to the bottom she went through many rooms, each finer than the other, but in the innermost p. 15 room of all, a great ugly man of the hill-folk came up to her and asked, "Will you be my sweetheart?"

"No! I will not," she said. She wouldn't have him at any price! not she; all she wanted was to get above ground again as fast as ever she could, and to look after her hen which was lost. Then the Man o' the Hill got so angry that he took her up and wrung her head off, and threw both head and trunk down into the cellar.

While this was going on, her mother sat at home waiting and waiting, but no daughter came. So, after she had waited a bit longer, and neither heard nor saw anything of her daughter, she said to her midmost daughter, that she must go out and see after her sister, and she added--

"You can just give our hen a call at the same time."

Well! the second sister had to set off, and the very same thing befell her; she went about looking and calling, and all at once she too heard a voice away in the cleft of the rock saying--

"Your hen trips inside the hill!

Your hen trips inside the hill!"

She thought this strange, and went to see what it could be; and so she too fell through the trap-door, deep, deep down, into the vault. There she went from room to room, and in the innermost one the Man o' the Hill came to her and asked if she would be his sweetheart? No! that she wouldn't; all she wanted was to get above ground again, and hunt for her hen which was lost. So the Man o' the Hill got angry, and took her up and wrung her head off, and threw both head and trunk down into the cellar. p. 16

Now, when the old dame had sat and waited seven lengths and seven breadths for her second daughter, and could neither see nor hear anything of her, she said to the youngest--

"Now, you really must set off and see after your sisters. 'Twas silly to lose the hen, but 'twill be sillier still if we lose both your sisters; and you can give the hen a call at the same time"--for the old dame's heart was still set on her hen.

Yes! the youngest was ready enough to go; so she walked up and down, hunting for her sisters and calling the hen, but she could neither see nor hear anything of them. So at last she too came, up to the cleft in the rock, and heard how something said--

"Your hen trips inside the hill!

Your hen trips inside the hill!"

She thought this strange, so she too went to see what it was, and fell through the trap-door too, deep, deep down, into a vault. When she reached the bottom she went from one room to another, each grander than the other; but she wasn't at all afraid, and took good time to look about her. So, as she was peeping into this and that, she cast her eye on the trap-door into the cellar, and looked down it, and what should she see there but her sisters, who lay dead. She had scarce time to slam the trap-door before the Man o' the Hill came to her and asked--

"Will you be my sweetheart?"

"With all my heart," answered the girl, for she saw very well how it had gone with her sisters. So, when the Man o' the Hill heard that, he got her the finest p. 17 clothes in the world; she had only to ask for them, or for anything else she had a mind to, and she got what she wanted, so glad was the Man o' the Hill that any one would be his sweetheart.

But when she had been there a little while, she was one day even more doleful and downcast than was her wont. So the Man o' the Hill asked her what was the matter, and why she was in such dumps.

"Ah!" said the girl, "it's because I can't get home to my mother. She's hard pinched, I know, for meat and drink, and has no one with her."

"Well!" said the Man o' the Hill, "I can't let you go to see her; but just stuff some meat and drink into a sack, and I'll carry it to her."

Yes! she would do so, she said, with many thanks; but at the bottom of the sack she stuffed a lot of gold and silver, and afterwards she laid a little food on the top of the gold and silver. Then she told the ogre the sack was ready, but he must be sure not to look into it. So he gave his word he wouldn't, and set off. Now, as the Man o' the Hill walked off, she peeped out after him through a chink in the trap-door; but when he had gone a bit on the way, he said--

"This sack is so heavy, I'll just see what there is inside it."

And so he was about to untie the mouth of the sack, but the girl called out to him--

"I see what you're at!

I see what you're at!"

"The deuce you do!" said the Man o' the Hill; p. 18 "then you must have plaguy sharp eyes in your head, that's all!"

So he threw the sack over his shoulder, and dared not try to look into it again. When he reached the widow's cottage, he threw the sack in through the cottage door, and said--

"Here you have meat and drink from your daughter; she doesn't want for anything."

So, when the girl had been in the hill a good bit longer, one day a billy-goat fell down the trap-door.

"Who sent for you, I should like to know? you long-bearded beast!" said the Man o' the Hill, who was in an awful rage, and with that he whipped up the goat, and wrung his head off, and threw him down into the cellar.

"Oh!" said the girl, "why did you do that? I might have had the goat to play with down here."

"Well!" said the Man o' the Hill, "you needn't be so down in the mouth about it, I should think, for I can soon put life into the billy-goat again."

So saying, he took a flask which hung up against the wall, put the billy-goat's head on his body again, and smeared it with some ointment out of the flask, and he was as well and as lively as ever again.

"Ho! ho!" said the girl to herself; "that flask is worth something--that it is."

So when she had been some time longer in the hill, she watched for a day when the Man o' the Hill was away, took her eldest sister, and putting her head on her shoulders, smeared her with some of the ointment out of the flask, just as she had seen the Man o' the Hill do with the billy-goat, p. 19 and in a trice her sister came to life again. Then the girl stuffed her into a sack, laid a little food over her, and as soon as the Man o' the Hill came home, she said to him--

"Dear friend! Now do go home to my mother with a morsel of food again; poor thing! she's both hungry and thirsty I'll be bound; and besides that, she's all alone in the world. But you must mind and not look into the sack."

Well! he said he would carry the sack; and he said, too, that he would not look into it; but when he had gone a little way, he thought the sack got awfully heavy; and when he had gone a bit farther he said to himself--

"Come what will, I must see what's inside this sack, for however sharp her eyes may be, she can't see me all this way off."

But just as he was about to untie the sack, the girl who sat inside the sack called out--

"I see what you're at!

I see what you're at!"

"The deuce you do!" said the ogre; "then you must have plaguy sharp eyes;" for he thought all the while it was the girl inside the hill who was speaking. So he didn't care so much as to peep into the sack again, but carried it straight to her mother as fast as he could, and when he got to the cottage door he threw it in through the door, and bawled out--

"Here you have meat and drink from your daughter; she wants for nothing."

Now, when the girl had been in the hill a while longer, p. 20 she did the very same thing with her other sister. She put her head on her shoulders, smeared her with ointment out of the flask, brought her to life, and stuffed her into the sack; but this time she crammed in also as much gold and silver as the sack would hold, and over all laid a very little food.

"Dear friend," she said to the Man o' the Hill, "you really must run home to my mother with a little food again; and mind you don't look into the sack."

Yes! the Man o' the Hill was ready enough to do as she wished, and he gave his word too that he wouldn't look into the sack; but when he had gone a bit of the way he began to think the sack got awfully heavy, and when he had gone a bit further, he could scarce stagger along under it, so he set it down, and was just about to untie the string and look into it, when the girl inside the sack bawled out--

"I see what you're at!

I see what you're at!"

"The deuce you do," said the Man o' the Hill, "then you must have plaguy sharp eyes of your own."

Well, he dared not try to look into the sack, but made all the haste he could, and carried the sack straight to the girl's mother. When he got to the cottage door he threw the sack in through the door, and roared out--

"Here you have food from your daughter; she wants for nothing."

So when the girl had been there a good while longer, the Man o' the Hill made up his mind to go out for the day; then the girl shammed to be sick and sorry, and pouted and fretted. p. 21

"It's no use your coming home before twelve o'clock at night," she said, "for I shan't be able to have supper ready before,--I'm so sick and poorly."

But when the Man o' the Hill was well out of the house, she stuffed some of her clothes with straw, and stuck up this lass of straw in the corner by the chimney, with a besom in her hand, so that it looked just as if she herself were standing there. After that she stole off home, and got a sharp-shooter to stay in the cottage with her mother.

So when the clock struck twelve, or just about it, home came the Man o' the Hill, and the first thing he said to the straw-girl was, "Give me something to eat."

But she answered him never a word.

"Give me something to eat, I say!" called out the Man o' the Hill, "for I am almost starved."

No! she hadn't a word to throw at him.

"Give me something to eat!" roared out the ogre the third time. "I think you'd better open your ears and hear what I say, or else I'll wake you up, that I will!"

No! the girl stood just as still as ever; so he flew into a rage, and gave her such a slap in the face, that the straw flew all about the room; but when he saw that, he knew he had been tricked, and began to hunt everywhere; and at last, when he came to the cellar, and found both the girl's sisters missing, he soon saw how the cat jumped, and ran off to the cottage, saying, "I'll soon pay her off!"

But when he reached the cottage, the sharp-shooter fired off his piece, and then the Man o' the Hill dared not go into the house, for he thought it was thunder. So he set off home again as fast its he could lay legs to the ground; p. 22 but what do you think, just as he got to the trap-door, the sun rose and the Man o' the Hill burst.

Oh! if one only knew where the trap-door was, I'll be bound there's a whole heap of gold and silver down there still!

Why the Sea Is Salt
Once on a time, but it was a long, long time ago, there were two brothers, one rich and one poor. Now, one Christmas eve, the poor one hadn't so much as a crumb in the house, either of meat or bread, so he went to his brother to ask him for something to keep Christmas with, in God's name. It was not the first time his brother had been forced to help him, and you may fancy he wasn't very glad to see his face, but he said--

"If you will do what I ask you to do, I'll give you a whole flitch of bacon."

So the poor brother said he would do anything, and was full of thanks.

"Well, here is the flitch," said the rich brother, "and now go straight to Hell."

"What I have given my word to do, I must stick to," said the other; so he took the flitch and set off. He walked the whole day, and at dusk he came to a place where he saw a very bright light.

"Maybe this is the place," said the man to himself. So he turned aside, and the first thing he saw was an old, old man, with a long white beard, who stood in an outhouse, hewing wood for the Christmas fire.

"Good even," said the man with the flitch.

"The same to you; whither are you going so late?" said the man. p. 9

"Oh! I'm going to Hell, if I only knew the right way," answered the poor man.

"Well, you're not far wrong, for this is Hell," said the old man; "when you get inside they will be all for buying your flitch, for meat is scarce in Hell; but mind, you don't sell it unless you get the hand-quern which stands behind the door for it. When you come out, I'll teach you how to handle the quern, for it's good to grind almost anything."

So the man with the flitch thanked the other for his good advice, and gave a great knock at the Devil's door.

When he got in, everything went just as the old man had said. All the devils, great and small, came swarming up to him like ants round an anthill, and each tried to outbid the other for the flitch.

"Well!" said the man, "by rights my old dame and I ought to have this flitch for our Christmas dinner; but since you have all set your hearts on it, I suppose I must give it up to you; but if I sell it at all, I'll have for it that quern behind the door yonder."

At first the Devil wouldn't hear of such a bargain, and chaffered and haggled with the man; but he stuck to what he said, and at last the Devil had to part with his quern. When the man got out into the yard, he asked the old woodcutter how he was to handle the quern; and after he had learned how to use it, he thanked the old man and went off home as fast as he could, but still the clock had struck twelve on Christmas eve before he reached his own door.

"Wherever in the world have you been?" said his old dame; "here have I sat hour after hour waiting and p. 10 watching, without so much as two sticks to lay together under the Christmas brose."

"Oh!" said the man, "I couldn't get back before, for I had to go a long way first for one thing, and then for another; but now you shall see what you shall see."

So he put the quern on the table, and bade it first of all grind lights, then a table-cloth, then meat, then ale, and so on till they had got everything that was nice for Christmas fare. He had only to speak the word, and the quern ground out what he wanted. The old dame stood by blessing her stars and kept on asking where he had got this wonderful quern, but he wouldn't tell her.

"It's all one where I got it from; you see the quern is a good one, and the mill-stream never freezes, that's enough."

So he ground meat and drink and dainties enough to last out till Twelfth Day, and on the third day he asked all his friends and kin to his house, and gave a great feast. Now, when his rich brother saw all that was on the table, and all that was behind in the larder, he grew quite spiteful and wild, for he couldn't bear that his brother should have anything.

" 'Twas only on Christmas eve," he said to the rest, "he was in such straits that he came and asked for a morsel of food in God's name, and now he gives a feast as if he were count or king;" and he turned to his brother and said--

"But whence, in Hell's name, have you got all this wealth?"

"From behind the door," answered the owner of the quern, for he didn't care to let the cat out of the bag. But p. 11 later on the evening, when he had got a drop too much, he could keep his secret no longer, and brought out the quern and said--

"There, you see what has gotten me all this wealth;" and so he made the quern grind all kind of things. When his brother saw it, he set his heart on having the quern, and, after a deal of coaxing, he got it; but he had to pay three hundred dollars for it, and his brother bargained to keep it till hay-harvest, for he thought, if I keep it till then, I can make it grind meat and drink that will last for years. So you may fancy the quern didn't grow rusty for want of work, and when hay-harvest came, the rich brother got it, but the other took care not to teach him how to handle it.

It was evening when the rich brother got the quern home, and next morning he told his wife to go out into the hay-field and toss, while the mowers cut the grass, and he would stay at home and get the dinner ready. So, when dinner-time drew near, he put the quern on the kitchen table and said--

"Grind herrings and broth, and grind them good and fast."

So the quern began to grind herrings and broth; first of all, all the dishes full, then all the tubs full, and so on till the kitchen floor was quite covered. Then the man twisted and twirled at the quern to get it to stop, but for all his twisting and fingering the quern went on grinding, and in a little while the broth rose so high that the man was like to drown. So he threw open the kitchen door and ran into the parlour, but it wasn't long before the quern had ground the parlour full too, and it was only at p. 12 the risk of his life that the man could get hold of the latch of the house door through the stream of broth. When he got the door open, he ran out and set off down the road, with the stream of herrings and broth at his heels, roaring like a waterfall over the whole farm.

Now, his old dame, who was in the field tossing hay, thought it a long time to dinner, and at last she said--

"Well! though the master doesn't call us home, we may as well go. Maybe he finds it hard work to boil the broth, and will be glad of my help."

The men were willing enough, so they sauntered homewards; but just as they had got a little way up the hill, what should they meet but herrings, and broth, and bread, all running and dashing, and splashing together in a stream, and the master himself running before them for his life, and as he passed them he bawled out,--"Would to heaven each of you had a hundred throats! but take care you're not drowned in the broth."

Away he went, as though the Evil One were at his heels, to his brother's house, and begged him for God's sake to take back the quern that instant; for, said he--

"If it grinds only one hour more, the whole parish will be swallowed up by herrings and broth."

But his brother wouldn't hear of taking it back till the other paid him down three hundred dollars more.

So the poor brother got both the money and the quern, and it wasn't long before he set up a farm-house far finer than the one in which his brother lived, and with the quern he ground so much gold that he covered it with plates of gold; and as the farm lay by the sea-side, the golden house gleamed and glistened far away over the sea. p. 13 All who sailed by put ashore to see the rich man in the golden house, and to see the wonderful quern, the fame of which spread far and wide, till there was nobody who hadn't heard tell of it.

So one day there came a skipper who wanted to see the quern; and the first thing he asked was if it could grind salt.

"Grind salt!" said the owner; "I should just think it could. It can grind anything."

When the skipper heard that, he said he must have the quern, cost what it would; for if he only had it, he thought he should be rid of his long voyages across stormy seas for a lading of salt. Well, at first the man wouldn't hear of parting with the quern; but the skipper begged and prayed so hard, that at last he let him have it, but he had to pay many, many thousand dollars for it. Now, when the skipper had got the quern on his back, he soon made off with it, for he was afraid lest the man should change his mind; so he had no time to ask how to handle the quern, but got on board his ship as fast as he could, and set sail. When he had sailed a good way off, he brought the quern on deck and said--

"Grind salt, and grind both good and fast."

Well, the quern began to grind salt so that it poured out like water; and when the skipper had got the ship full, he wished to stop the quern, but whichever way he turned it, and however much he tried, it was no good; the quern kept grinding on, and the heap of salt grew higher and higher, and at last down sunk the ship.

There lies the quern at the bottom of the sea, and grinds away at this very day, and that's why the sea is salt.

True and Untrue
Once on a time there were two brothers; one was called True, and the other Untrue. True was always upright and good towards all, but Untrue was bad and full of lies, so that no one could believe what he said. Their mother was a widow, and hadn't much to live on; so when her sons had grown up, she was forced to send them away, that they might earn their bread in the world. Each got a little scrip with some food in it, and then they went their way.

Now, when they had walked till evening, they sat down on a windfall in the wood, and took out their scrips, for they were hungry after walking the whole day, and thought a morsel of food would be sweet enough.

"If you're of my mind," said Untrue, "I think we had better eat out of your scrip, so long as there is anything in it, and after that we can take to mine."

Yes! True was well pleased with this, so they fell to eating, but Untrue got all the best bits, and stuffed himself with them, while True got only the burnt crusts and scraps. p. 2

Next morning they broke their fast off True's food, and they dined off it too, and then there was nothing left in his scrip. So when they had walked till late at night, and were ready to eat again, True wanted to eat out of his brother's scrip, but Untrue said "No," the food was his, and he had only enough for himself.

"Nay! but you know you ate out of my scrip so long as there was anything in it," said True.

"All very fine, I daresay," answered Untrue; "but if you are such a fool as to let others eat up your food before your face, you must make the best of it; for now all you have to do is to sit here and starve."

"Very well!" said True, "you're Untrue by name and untrue by nature; so you have been, and so you will be all your life long."

Now when Untrue heard this, he flew into a rage, and rushed at his brother, and plucked out both his eyes. "Now, try if you can see whether folk are untrue or not, you blind buzzard!" and so saying, he ran away and left him.

Poor True! there he went walking along and feeling his way through the thick wood. Blind and alone, he scarce knew which way to turn, when all at once he caught hold of the trunk of a great bushy lime-tree, so he thought he would climb up into it, and sit there till the night was over for fear of the wild beasts.

"When the birds begin to sing," he said to himself, "then I shall know it is day, and I can try to grope my way farther on." So he climbed up into the lime-tree. After he had sat there a little time, he heard how some one came and began to make a stir and clatter under the p. 3tree, and soon after others came and when they began to greet one another, he found out it was Bruin the bear, and Greylegs the wolf, and Slyboots the fox, and Longears the hare, who had come to keep St. John's eve under the tree. So they began to eat and drink, and be merry; and when they had done eating they fell to gossiping together. At last the Fox said--

"Shan't we, each of us, tell a little story while we sit here?"

Well! the others had nothing against that. It would be good fun, they said, and the Bear began; for you may fancy he was king of the company.

"The king of England," said Bruin, "has such bad eyesight, he can scarce see a yard before him; but if he only came to this lime-tree in the morning, while the dew is still on the leaves, and took and rubbed his eyes with the dew, he would get back his sight as good as ever."

"Very true!" said Greylegs. "The king of England has a deaf and dumb daughter too; but if he only knew what I know, he would soon cure her. Last year she went to the communion. She let a crumb of the bread fall out of her mouth, and a great toad came and swallowed it down; but if they only dug up the chancel floor, they would find the toad sitting right under the altar rails, with the bread still sticking in his throat. If they were to cut the toad open, and take and give the bread to the princess, she would be like other folk again as to her speech and hearing."

"That's all very well," said the Fox; "but if the king of England knew what I know, he would not be so badly off for water in his palace; for under the great stone, in p. 4 his palace-yard, is a spring of the clearest water one could wish for, if he only knew to dig for it there."

"Ah!" said the Hare in a small voice; "the king of England has the finest orchard in the whole land but it does not bear so much as a crab, for there lies a heavy gold chain in three turns round the orchard. If he got that dug up, there would not be a garden like it for bearing in all his kingdom."

"Very true, I dare say," said the Fox; "but now it's getting very late, and we may as well go home."

So they all went away together.

After they were gone, True fell asleep as he sat up in the tree; but when the birds began to sing at dawn, he woke up, and took the dew from the leaves, and rubbed his eyes with it, and so got his sight back as good as it was before Untrue plucked his eyes out.

Then he went straight to the king of England's palace, and begged for work, and got it on the spot. So one day the king came out into the palace-yard, and when he had walked about a bit, he wanted to drink out of his pump; for you must know the day was hot, and the king very thirsty; but when they poured him out a glass, it was so muddy, and nasty, and foul, that the king got quite vexed. "I don't think there's ever a man in my whole kingdom who has such bad water in his yard as I, and yet I bring it in pipes from far, over hill and dale," cried out the king.

"Like enough, your Majesty;" said True, "but if you would let me have some men to help me to dig up this great stone which lies here in the middle of your yard, you would soon see good water, and plenty of it." p. 5

Well! the king was willing enough; and they had scarcely got the stone well out, and dug under it a while, before a jet of water sprang out high up into the air, as clear and full as if it came out of a conduit, and clearer water was not to be found in all England.

A little while after the king was out in his palace-yard again, and there came a great hawk flying after his chicken, and all the king's men began to clap their hands and bawl out, "There he flies!" "There he flies!" The king caught up his gun and tried to shoot the hawk, but he couldn't see so far, so he fell into great grief. "Would to Heaven," he said, "there was any one who could tell me a cure for my eyes; for I think I shall soon go quite blind!"

"I can tell you one soon enough," said True; and then he told the king what he had done to cure his own eyes, and the king set off that very afternoon to the lime-tree, as you may fancy, and his eyes were quite cured as soon as he rubbed them with the dew which was on the leaves in the morning. From that time forth there was no one whom the king held so dear as True, and he had to be with him wherever he went, both at home and abroad.

So one day, as they were walking together in the orchard, the king said, "I can't tell how it is, that I can't! there isn't a man in England who spends so much on his orchard as I, and yet I can't get one of the trees to bear so much as a crab."

"Well! Well!" said True; "if I may have what lies three times twisted round your orchard, and men to dig it up, your orchard will bear well enough."

Yes! the king was quite willing, so True got men and p. 6 began to dig, and at last he dug up the whole gold chain. Now True was a rich man, far richer indeed than the king himself, but still the king was well pleased, for his orchard bore so that the boughs of the trees hung down to the ground, and such sweet apples and pears nobody had ever tasted.

Another day too the king and True were walking about, and talking together, when the princess passed them, and the king was quite downcast when he saw her.

"Isn't it a pity, now, that so lovely a princess as mine should want speech and hearing?" he said to True.

"Ay, but there is a cure for that," said True.

When the king heard that, he was so glad that he promised him the princess to wife, and half his kingdom into the bargain, if he could get her right again. So True took a few men, and went into the church, and dug up the toad which sat under the altar-rails. Then he cut open the toad, and took out the bread and gave it to the king's daughter; and from that hour she got back her speech, and could talk like other people.

Now True was to have the princess, and they got ready for the bridal-feast, and such a feast had never been seen before; it was the talk of the whole land. Just as they were in the midst of dancing the bridal-dance, in came a beggar lad, and begged for a morsel of food, and he was so ragged and wretched that every one crossed themselves when they looked at him; but True knew him at once, and saw that it was Untrue, his brother.

"Do you know me again?" said True.

"Oh! where should such a one as I ever have seen so great a lord?" said Untrue. p. 7

"Still you have seen me before," said True. "It was I whose eyes you plucked out a year ago this very day. Untrue by name, and untrue by nature; so I said before, and so I say now; but you are still my brother, and so you shall have some food. After that, you may go to the lime-tree where I sat last year; if you hear anything that can do you good, you will be lucky."

So Untrue did not wait to be told twice. "If True has got so much good by sitting in the lime-tree, that in one year he has come to be king over half England, what good may not I get?" he thought. So he set off and climbed up into the lime-tree. He had not sat there long, before all the beasts came as before, and ate and drank, and kept St. John's eve under the tree. When they had left off eating, the Fox wished that they should begin to tell stories, and Untrue got ready to listen with all his might, till his ears were almost fit to fall off. But Bruin the bear was surly, and, growled and said--

"Some one has been chattering about what we said last year, and so now we will hold our tongues about what we know;" and with that the beasts bade one another "Good night," and parted, and Untrue was just as wise as he was before, and the reason was, that his name was Untrue, and his nature untrue too.

The Two Little Sisters Who Were Brothers
a Bulrovian tale

adapted by Rick Walton



Once upon a time there were two little sisters who were brothers. One day they realized that their canary's long-lost britches were missing, so the first sister who was a brother set out to find them. He went a long, long way through the world, until late at night he reached the house next door. It was a tiny strawberry house in the middle of a tuna fish can. In the doorway danced an old witch.

"May I sleep in your nose tonight?" asked the sister who was a brother.

"No," said the witch. "But you may sleep in my boot."

So the sister who was a brother climbed into the witch's boot and slept for three minutes.

When he awoke four days later the old witch was wide awake at the dinner table, snoring. On the table lay the canary's long-lost britches.

The sister who was a brother grabbed the long-lost britches and crept out of the house as fast as he couldn't. He crept and he crept until he came to a tree.

"Little horse, little horse, come in and put me in your ear," said the tree.

"Not I," said the sister who was a brother, and he crept faster.

Soon he came to a field.

"Little cow, little cow, come and tickle my nose," said the field.

"Not I," said the sister who was a brother, and he crept faster.

Soon he came to a well.

"Little pig, little pig, come and turn me upside down," said the well.

"Not I," said the sister who was a brother, and he crept and crept until he came to a tiger. He sat down beneath the tiger to try on the britches.

But the old witch fell asleep, and saw that the britches were missing. She hopped after the little boy, and soon came to the tree.

"Have you seen a boy
Who falls into ditches
And carries my britches?" she said.
"Yes," said the tree, "a little horse passed by this way."

The old witch hopped on and on, and she came to the field.

"Have you seen a boy
Whose best friends are snitches?
He carries my britches." she said.
"Yes," said the field, "a little cow passed by this way."

The old woman hopped on and on, and she came to the well.

"Have you seen a boy
Whose covered with itches
And steals bird britches?" she said.
"Yes," said the well, "the little pig sits under a tiger." So the old witch came to the tiger. She took the canary's britches from the sister who was a brother and he had to go home without them.

The next day the second little sister who was a brother set out to find their canary's long-lost britches. He, too, went a long, long way through the world, until late at night he reached the house next door where the old witch danced.

"May I sleep in your nose tonight?" asked the sister who was a brother.

"No," said the witch. "But you may sleep in my boot."

So the sister who was a brother climbed into the witch's boot and slept for three minutes.

When he awoke four days later the old witch was wide awake at the dinner table, snoring. On the table lay the canary's long-lost britches.

The sister who was a brother grabbed the long lost britches and crawled out of the house as fast as he couldn't. He crawled and he crawled until he came to the tree.

"Little horse, little horse, come in and put me in your ear," said the tree.

"That I will gladly," said the sister who was a brother.

It was a very large tree, but the sister who was a brother put it in his ear.

Then he crawled on again, and soon he came to the field.

"Little cow, little cow, come and tickle my nose," said the field.

It was a very large field, but the sister who was a brother set down the britches and looked until he found the nose, and he tickled it.

Then he crawled and crawled until he came to the well.

"Little pig, little pig, come and turn me upside down," said the well.

"That I will," said the sister who was a brother, and though it was a very deep well, he set down the britches and pulled out the well and turned it upside down.

Then he crawled until he came to a tiger. He sat down beneath the tiger to try on the britches.

But the old witch fell asleep, and saw that the britches were missing. She hopped after the sister who was a brother, and soon came to the tree.

"Have you seen a boy
Who needs sixty switches
And carries my britches?" she said.
But the tree just dropped pots and pans on the witch's head.

The old witch hopped on and on, and she came to the field.

"Have you seen a boy
Whose nose always twitches?
He carries my britches." she said.
But the field just blew its nose at the old witch.

The old woman hopped on and on, and she came to the well.

"Have you seen a boy
Whose covered with stitches
And steals bird britches?" she said.
But the well just fell over on top of the old witch.

So the old witch gave up and hopped home.

And the second little sister who was a brother took the canary britches and crawled home, and the canary was very happy.

Turpie and the Crows
a Bulrovian fairy tale

adapted by Rick Walton



Once upon a time there lived a little old man and a little old woman in a house made of corn stalks. The little old man and the little old woman had a tall scarecrow named Turpie who always barked when anyone tried to eat the house.

One night when the little old man and the little old woman were fast asleep, flutter, flutter, flutter through the sky came the crows.

"We'll eat the corn house and steal the little old man and the little old woman," said the crows.

But Turpie saw them. "BARK BARK BARK BARK," he barked, and he frightened the crows away.

"That scarecrow Turpie barks so loudly that I can't sleep!" said the little old man. And the little old man took off Turpie's head and buried it in the root cellar.

The second night along came the crows, flutter, flutter, flutter through the sky.

"We'll eat the corn house and steal the little old man and the little old woman," they said.

But Turpie felt them coming. "KICK KICK KICK KICK," kicked Turpie against the corn house. The crows flew away.

But the little old man awoke and said, "That scarecrow Turpie kicks so loudly that I can't sleep!" And the little old man took off Turpie's legs and buried them in the root cellar.

The third night the crows came again, flutter, flutter, flutter through the sky.

"We'll eat the corn house and steal the little old man and the little old woman," said the crows.

But Turpie knew they were there. "CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP," clapped Turpie and frightened the crows away.

But the little old man awoke and said, "That scarecrow Turpie claps so loudly that I can't sleep!" And the little old man took off Turpie's arms and buried them in the root cellar.

On the fourth night the crows returned, flutter, flutter, flutter through the sky.

"We'll eat the corn house and steal the little old man and the little old woman," said the crows.

Turpie tried to bark, but there was no bark in him. He tried to kick, but there was no kick in him. He tried to clap, but there was no clap in him. There was nothing Turpie could do.

So the crows ate the little corn house and stole away the little old woman. But they didn't get the little old man, for when he heard the crows eating the little corn house, he buried himself in the root cellar.

The crows took the little old lady to their home. They put an ugly nose on her face. And they put a pointed hat on her head. Then they tied her to the trunk of their tree to scare away people.

Now the little old man was sorry when he dug himself out of the root cellar. He was sorry that his house had been eaten and that the little old woman was gone. And he was sorry that all that was left of Turpie was his trunk.

So out of the root cellar he dug Turpie's head, and his legs, and his arms, and he put them where they belonged, on Turpie's body.

Then the little old man climbed back into the root cellar where he buried his head in his arms and cried.

Now that Turpie had arms, he unhooked himself from his pole and climbed down. And now that he had legs, off he trotted to the home of the crows.

When he arrived he saw the little old lady tied to the tree trunk. He put his finger to his lips so she'd be quiet. Then he untied her and sent her on her way home.

Turpie then hung himself up on the tree trunk and waited.

That night, when the crows flew out the first thing they saw was...

Turpie! "BARK BARK BARK BARK!" he said.

The crows were so frightened they dropped down dead.

Turpie gathered them up and took them home.

And the next day the little old man and the little old lady had crow pie for dinner.

And the next night, Turpie was again on duty, hung on his pole, protecting the little old man and the little old lady, and their new corn house.

The Town House and the Country House
by Rick Walton



Once upon a time a Town House answered a wrong number from a Country House.

"I'm so sorry," said the Country House. "I was trying to call my mother."

"That's quite all right," said the Town House. "I do it often myself," he said, though it wasn't true. He just wanted to make the Country House feel better.

Well, the two houses hit it right off and they began to talk. They told their life histories, and complained about carpenters and painters they had known.

The Town House talked about how wonderfully quiet it is in the country.

And the Country House talked about how exciting life in the city is.

And they decided that they would visit each other.

But of course, being houses, they weren't going anywhere.

So eventually they just hung up the phones and never heard from each other again.

The Story of the Three Little Bigs
by Rick Walton



There was once a huge Big with three little Bigs, and when they grew too big for her to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune.

The first little Big went off and met a man with a wagon load of straw. "Please, man," said the little Big, "give me that straw to build me a house."

And the man, afraid that the little Big would step on him, gave him the straw. And the little Big built a house with it. But the little Big, though smaller than a big Big, was still too big for his new house. So he left it and went back home to his mother.

But along came a hungry wolf to the house of straw. He knew that if he could eat the little Big he would never again be hungry any more. He knocked at the door, and said, "Little Big, little Big, let me come in."

But the little Big, not being there, said nothing.

And the wolf repeated, "Little Big, little Big, let me come in!"

And the little Big, still not being there, again said nothing.

Then the wolf said, "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew in the house of straw.

The wolf rooted through the pile of straw, but he could find no little Big there.

The second little Big went off and met a man with a boat load of straw. "Please, man," said the little Big, "give me those sticks to build me a house."

And the man, afraid that the little Big would step on him, gave him the sticks. And the little Big built a house with it. But the little Big, though smaller than a big Big, was still too big for his new house. So he left it and went back home to his mother.

But along came the very hungry wolf to the house of sticks. He knew that if he could eat the little Big he would never again be hungry any more. He knocked at the door, and said, "Little Big, little Big, let me come in."

But the little Big, not being there, said nothing.

And the wolf repeated, "Little Big, little Big, let me come in!"

And the little Big, still not being there, again said nothing.

Then the wolf said, "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew in the house of sticks.

The wolf rooted through the pile of sticks, but he could find no little Big there.

The third little Big went off and met a man with a ship load of bricks. "Please, man," said the little Big, "give me those bricks to build me a house."

And the man, afraid that the little Big would step on him, gave him the bricks. And the little Big built a house with it. This time the house was big enough and the third little Big moved in, and invited his two brothers to move in with him so their mother would have room to breathe.

But along came the starving wolf to the house of bricks. He knew that if he could eat the little Big he would never again be hungry any more. He knocked at the door, and said, "Little Big, little Big, let me come in."

And the little Big opened the door of the brick house, and being about six hundred times bigger than the wolf, he stepped on him.

And the wolf was never again hungry any more.

The Story of the Three Bores
by Rick Walton



Once upon a time there were three bores. They lived together in a boring house in a boring forest. One of them was a little, small, wee bore. One was a middle-sized bore. And one was a great, huge bore. I'd tell you more about them but it's way too boring.

They each had a bowl for their porridge. The little, small, wee bore had a little bowl. The middle-sized bore had a middle- sized bowl. The great, huge bore had a huge bowl. And they were all boring, mud-colored bowls.

They each had a chair to sit in. The little, small, wee bore had a little chair. The middle-sized bore had a middle-sized chair. The great, huge bore had a huge chair. And they were all boring, mud-colored chairs.

And they each had a bed to sleep in. The little, small, wee bore had a little bed. The middle-sized bore had a middle-sized bed. The great, huge bore had a huge bed. And they were all boring, mud-colored beds.

One day, like they did every boring day, they made porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their bowls. Then they went outside to stare at a rock while the porridge was cooling.

Meanwhile, a little girl called Goldilocks had had trouble sleeping. She'd been awake all night and had decided that maybe a nice walk would help her get to sleep. While she was walking she came upon the house. "What a boring little house," she said. "But it might be a good place to take a nap," and she went inside.

There she saw the porridge on the table. "What boring bowls," she said. "They should at least have some flowers on them." So she took some crayons from her purse and drew flowers on them.

Then she thought, maybe if I eat some of this porridge it will make me sleepy.

First she tasted the great, huge bore's porridge. It tasted like air. Then she tasted the middle-sized bore's porridge. It tasted like paper. Then she tasted the little, small, wee bore's porridge. It tasted like nothing. She just couldn't get down another bite of such boring food, even if it would help her get to sleep.

Then Goldilocks saw the chairs. Maybe if I sit down I will be able to fall asleep, she thought. First she sat in the great, huge bore's chair. It didn't feel good, didn't feel bad, didn't feel nothing at all. Definitely didn't make her feel sleepy. She sat down in the middle-sized bore's chair. It didn't feel bad, didn't feel good, didn't feel nothing at all. Didn't make her feel sleepy one bit. She sat down in the little, small, wee bore's chair. It didn't feel good, didn't feel bad, didn't feel nothing at all. She would never get to sleep in this chair.

Besides, they were so very, very boring. So Goldilocks took some pillows, needles and thread from her purse and embroidered some lovely cushions for the chairs.

Then Goldilocks went upstairs to look for the bedroom. Perhaps if she could lie down she could fall asleep. She found the beds in a very boring room. First she lay down on the great, huge bore's bed. It felt like nothing. She lay down on the middle- sized bore's bed. It felt like nothing. Then she lay down on the little, small, wee bore's bed. It felt like nothing. She was very tired, but she just couldn't get to sleep on a bed that felt like nothing. She wished she was back in her soft, down bed that wrapped itself warm around you. Maybe if she lied down in it now she could get to sleep. She decided she would do just that, go back to her own bed.

But first she had something to do.

Goldilocks took some bags of down, and some cloth, and some needle and thread from her purse, and began to make some soft comforters for the beds.

In the meantime the three bores had finished staring at the rock, so they came in to breakfast.

They looked at the bowls of porridge.

"These are not our bowls," said the great, huge bore. "They have pictures on them. We had better not eat the porridge in them."

Then they decided that they could use a sit-down after a hard morning of staring at a rock. They went over to their chairs.

"These are not our chairs," said the middle-sized bore. "They have cushions on them. We had better not sit on them."

Then the three bores decided that they were very tired, and they went upstairs to their bedrooms.

"These are not our beds," said the little, small, wee bore. "There is a girl on one. We have no girls on our beds."

"My name's Goldilocks," said Goldilocks as she sat on the boring wee bed and began sewing on the first comforter.

"Nice to meet you Goldilocks," said the three bores. "Now let us tell you what we did this morning." And for the next six hours they told Goldilocks all about staring at the rock.

But Goldilocks didn't hear a thing they said, for the minute they began talking, she fell asleep.

The Sky Is Falling
a Bulrovian fairy tale

adapted by Rick Walton



Once upon a time there was a tiny, tiny chicken named Chicken Little. One day Chicken Little was scratching in the garden when something fell on her head.

"Oh," cried Chicken Little, "the sky is falling. I must go tell the king."

So Chicken Little ran and ran, and she met Henny Penny.

"Where do you travel so fast, Chicken Little?" asked Henny Penny.

"Ah, Henny Penny," said Chicken Little, "the sky is falling, and I must go and tell the king."

"How do you know that the sky is falling, Chicken Little?" asked Henny Penny.

"I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a bit of it fell on my head," said Chicken Little.

"I will go with you to the king," said Henny Penny.

So they ran along together, and they met Ducky Daddles.

"Where do you travel so fast?" asked Ducky Daddles.

"Ah, Ducky Daddles," said Chicken Little, "the sky is falling, and Henny Penny and I go to tell the king."

"How do you know that the sky is falling, Chicken Little?" asked Ducky Daddles.

"I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a bit of it fell on my head," said Chicken Little.

"I will go with you to the king," said Ducky Daddles.

So they ran along together, and they met Goosey Loosey.

"Where do you travel so fast, Chicken Little?" asked Goosey Loosey.

"Ah, Goosey Loosey," said Chicken Little, "the sky is falling. Henny Penny and Ducky Daddles and I go to tell the king."

"How do you know that the sky is falling, Chicken Little?" asked Goosey Loosey.

"I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a bit of it fell on my head," said Chicken Little.

"I will go with you," said Goosey Loosey.

So they ran along together, and they met Turkey Lurkey.

"Where do you travel so fast, Chicken Little?" asked Turkey Lurkey.

"Ah, Turkey Lurkey," said Chicken Little, "the sky is falling, and Henny Penny and Ducky Daddles and Goosey Loosey and I go to tell the king."

"How do you know that the sky is falling?" asked Turkey Lurkey.

"I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a bit of it fell on my head," said Chicken Little.

"I will go with you to the king," said Turkey Lurkey.

So they ran along together, and they met Foxy Loxy.

"Where do you travel so fast, Chicken Little?" asked Foxy Loxy.

"Ah, Foxy Loxy," said Chicken Little, "the sky is falling, and we go to tell the king."

"Do you know the way to the king's house?" asked Foxy Loxy.

"No," said Chicken Little.

"No," said Henny Penny.

"No," said Ducky Daddles.

"No," said Goosey Loosey.

"No," said Turkey Lurkey.

"Then come with me and I will show you," said Foxy Loxy.

And just as he was about to lead them into his den to eat them...

...the sky fell on him.

"Oh dear," said Chicken Little.

"We're too late," said Henny Penny.

"Poor Foxy Loxy," said Ducky Daddles.

"No sense in going to the king," said Goosey Loosey.

"Nothing to do now but go home," said Turkey Lurkey.

And they did.

Sir Gammer Vans
adapted by Rick Walton



Last Sunday morning at six o'clock in the evening I was sailing over the tops of the mountains in my little boat. Just then I met two men on horseback riding a goat. I asked them, "Could you tell me if I drowned last Saturday in a shower of feathers?" They said they did not know, but if I went to see Sir Gammer Vans he could tell me all about it.

"How will I know where he lives?" I asked.

"That's easy," they said. "He lives in a brick house made of bread. The house is all by itself in the middle of sixty or seventy others just like it."

"Oh, nothing in the world is easier," I said.

"Nothing can be easier," they said, so I went on my way.

Now Sir Gammer Vans was a giant, and a bottlemaker. And like all giants who are bottlemakers Sir Gammer Vans lived in a thumb- sized bottle kept by his front door. He popped out of the bottle when I knocked on his window.

"How do you do?" he said.

"Very well, I thank you," I said.

"Have some breakfast with me?"

"With all my heart," I said.

So he gave me a slice of milk, and a cup of cold beef. A little dog under the table picked up all the crumbs.

"Sell him," I said.

"No, don't sell him," he said. "He killed a tomato yesterday. And if you don't believe me, I'll show you the tomato alive in a basket."

So he took me into his garden. In one corner there was a fox hatching eagle's eggs. In another corner there was an iron apple- tree. It was covered with pears and pennies. In the third corner there was the tomato which the dog killed yesterday, alive in the basket.

Then he took me into the park to show me his carrots. I remembered that the king had told me to shoot some carrots for his dinner. So I set fire to my bow, put my arrow in my pocket, and shot at the carrots. I broke seventeen carrots in half, and twenty-one and a half in quarters. But my arrow passed clean through them without ever touching them. And the worst was I lost my arrow. However, I found it again in a hollow tree. I felt it. It felt clammy. I smelled it. It smelled like honey. "Oh, ho," I said. "I've found a bees' nest."

But just then out flew a flock of potatoes. I shot at them. Some say I killed eighteen, but I'm sure I killed thirty-six. I also killed a dead fish which was flying over the bridge. I took the fish home and made him into the best apple-pie I ever tasted.