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Pigs 141 up the hill. The little pig was so frightened that he did not know what to do, but he crawled into the churn to hide. This started the churn to rolling, and down the hill it went, right toward the wolf. The churn rolled over and over, bumping on the stones, and the little pig squeaked as though he would split his throat.
The wolf could not think what the noisy round thing was, coming straight down the hill toward him; so he turned tail and ran away home in a fright without ever going to the fair at all.
The next morning he went to the pig's house and told him how frightened he had been by a large, round, noisy thing that came down the hill straight at him.
“Ha, ha,”: laughed the pig. “So I frightened you, did I? That was a churn I bought at the fair, and I was inside it, rolling down the hill to frighten
This made the wolf so angry that he vowed he would eat the pig, and that nothing should stop him. So he climbed up on the roof and jumped down the chimney.
But the wise little pig was ready for him, for he had built a big fire and hung a great kettle of water over it, right under the chimney. When the pig heard the wolf coming he took the cover off the kettle, and down fell the wolf right into it. Before he could crawl out, the little pig popped the lid back on again, and in a trice he had the wolf boiling.
That night the little pig had boiled wolf for supper. So he lived in his brick and mortar house till he grew too big for it, and never was he troubled by a wolf again.
By ALFRED TENNYSON
V V In her nest at peep of day?
What does little baby say
THE CAT AND THE CHESTNUTS
CAT and a Monkey were sitting one day on H the hearth in front of a fire where their master left some chestnuts to roast in the ashes. The chestnuts were bursting finely in the heat when the Monkey said:
“It is plain to see that you have splendid paws, just like the hands of a man. How easily you could take the chestnuts out of the fire! Won't you try
The silly Cat, much flattered by the speech, reached forward and caught one of the chestnuts. The ashes were so hot that he jerked his arm back with a cry of pain.
The Monkey laughed, and so hurt the Cat's pride that the foolish animal drew out one of the nuts, in spite of the fact that his paw was singed.
He did not stop, however, but drew out one after another and put them behind him, though every time he burned his paw. When he could reach no more he turned to look behind him at the nuts he laid there, and was astonished to see that the Monkey had shelled and eaten every one.
It often happens that one person “makes a catspaw” of another.
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
By Robert Louis STEVENSON
I had two pillows at my head,
And sometimes for an hour or so
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
I was the giant great and still
Were you ever sick, not so sick that you couldn't be happy at all, but just sick enough so that you must stay in bed? And did you have all your toys about you just as Mr. Stevenson had his about him when he was a little boy?
Did you lie there and look at your lovely leaden soldiers and think the wrinkles and folds in the bedquilt were hills and valleys, and that your troops were marching up and down getting ready for some big battle?
Then, perhaps, where the sheet was folded over the bedspread you saw the beautiful sea with its great whitecaps, and among them all your ships, and many more like them, riding nobly over the waves on their long voyages. When you were tired of the ships and the sea, perhaps you set your houses around the shore and made villages and cities. You peopled these with little children singing and playing, and with grown-up men and women watching the children, or working to earn clothes and food for their families.
When you thought of what you had done, how great and powerful you seemed—a real giant that could pick up a whole regiment of soldiers in one hand, that could take the ships out of the water or move houses as though they were pebbles! How fine it all was, and how lovely seemed your own wonderful bedspread, the pleasant land of Counterpane. This is another of the little poems which show us how well Mr. Stevenson understood children, and what a quaint, charming child he must have been.