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Children's Nursery Rhymes And Stories.
 | Hey Diddle Diddle.
Hey Diddle Diddle
The Cat and the Fiddle
The Cow Jumped over the Moon
The little Dog laughed to see such fun
And the Dish ran away with the Spoon. |
|
I Love A Pussy.
I love a little Pussy
Her coat is so warm
And if I don`t hurt her
She`ll do me no harm
So I`ll not pull her tail
Nor drive her away
But Pussy and I
Very gently will play. |
Pussycat, Pussycat.
Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?
I`ve been to London to visit the Queen.
Pussycat, Pussycat,What did you do there?
I frightened a little mouse from under her chair. |
A Cat Came A Fiddling
A cat came a fiddling out of a barn
With a pair of bagpipes under her arm
She could sing nothing but, fiddle dee dee
The mouse has married the Bumblebee
Pipe, cat, dance, mouse
We`ll have a wedding at our good house |
The Cats Went Out To Serenade.
The cats went out to serenade
And on a banjo sweetly played
And Summer nights they climbed a tree
And sang "my love, oh come to me!. |
Dame Trot And Her Cat.
Dame Trot and her Cat
Led a peacefull life
When they were not troubled
With other folks` strife.
When Dame had her dinner
Pussy would wait
And was sure to receive
A nice piece from her plate. |
Three Little Kittens.
Three little kittens
They lost their mittens
And they began to cry
Oh, Mother dear
We sadly fear
Our mittens we have lost
What! Lost your mittens
You naughty kittens
Then you shall have no pie.
The three little kittens
They found their mittens
And they began to cry
Oh, Mother dear
See here, see here
Our mittens we have found.
What, found your mittens
Then you`re good kittens
And you shall have some pie
Purr-rr, Purr-rr
Then you shall have some pie.
Three little kittens
Put on their mittens
And soon ate up the pie
Oh, Mother dear
We sadly fear
Our mittens we have soiled.
What, soiled your mittens
You naughty kittens
And they began to sigh
Meow, meow
And they began to sigh.
The three little kittens
They washed their mittens
And hung them out to dry
Oh, Mother dear
Do you not hear
Our mittens we have washed?
What! washed your mittens?
Then you`re good kittens!
But I smell a rat close by
Meow, meow
We smell a rat close by. |
Pussycat Ate The Dumplings.
Pussycat ate the Dumplings
The Dumplings
Pussycat ate the Dumplings
Mama stood by
And cried "Oh fie"
Why did you eat the Dumplings?. |
Pussycat Cat.
Pussycat Cat
Jumped over a coal,
And in her best petticoat,
And burnt a hole,
Poor pussy`s weeping,
She`ll have no milk,
Until her best petticoat
Mended with silk. |
The Owl And The Pussycat.
The Owl and the Puusycat
Went to sea,
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey,
And plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! Pussy, My love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are
You are, you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are".
Pussy said to the Owl,
"You elegant fowl,
How charming sweet you sing,
O let us be married,
To long we have tarred;
But what shall we do for a ring?".
They sailed away,
For a year and a day,
To the land,
Where the Bong-tree grows.
And there in a wood,
A Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
Dear Pig, are you willing,
To sell for one shilling,
Your ring?
Said the Piggy "I will".
So they took it away,
And were married next day
By the Turkey,
Who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince,
And slices of Quince,
Which they ate,
With a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand,
On the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Edward Lear.
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As I Was Going To St. Ives.
As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?. |
Mistress Pussy.
Six little mice sat down to spin;
Pussy passed by and she peeped in.
What are you doing, my litle men?
Weaving coats for gentlemen.
Shall I come in and cut off your threads?
No,no Mistress Pussy, you`d bite off our heads.
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Ding Dong Bell.
Ding dong bell
Pussy`s in the well.
Who put her in?
Little Johnny Green.
Who pulled her out?
Little Tommy Stout.
What a naughty boy was that
To try and drown poor pussycat. |
Old Mistress McShuttle.
Old Mistress McShuttle
Lived in a coal-scuttle,
Along with her dog and cat;
What they ate I can`t tell.
But `tis known very well,
That none of the party were fat.
Old Mistress McShuttle
Scoured out her coal-scuttle,
And washed both her dog and cat;
The cat scratched her nose,
So they came to hard blows,
And who was the gainer by that?
|
Higglety Pigglety Pop.
Higglety, Pigglety, Pop!
The dog has eaten the mop;
The pig`s in a hurry,
The cat`s in a flurry,
Higglety, pigglety, pop!. |
The Two Gray Kits.
The two gray kits,
And the gray kit`s mother
All went over
The bridge together.
The bridge broke down,
They all fell in,
"May the rats go with you",
Says Tom Bowlin.
Little Robin Red Breast.
Little Robin Red Breast,
Sat upon a tree,
Up went Pussy-Cat,
And down went he;
Down came Pussy-Cat,
Away Robin ran,
Says little Robin Redbreast
Catch me if you can.
Little Robin Redbreast
Jumped upon a spade,
Pussy-Cat jumped after him,
And then he was afraid.
Little Robin chirped and sung,
And what did pussy say?
Pussy-Cat said Mew, mew mew,
And Robin flew away.
Cat`s Chorus.
We meet every night
On the same garden wall,
And if you`re in luck
You may hear our call:
Chorus: With a howl and a yowl, and a hullaballoo
We`re the cat`s chorus, singing for you!
Fifi`s soprano,
Butch sings the bass,
Kipper`s a baritone,
Bert sets the pace.
Chorus: With a howl and a yowl, and a hullaballoo
We`re the cat`s chorus, singing for you!
We sing lots of songs
Both new ones and old,
All huddled together
To keep out the cold.
Chorus: With a howl and a yowl, and a hullaballoo
We`re the cat`s chorus, singing for you!
|
Pix Pax Pox.
Once upon a time there was a witch, who lived in a small house in the middle of a deep, dark wood.
She had a tall steeple hat, a pointed nose and a whiskery chin. She wore a long cloak with silver patterns on it, made of half-moons and stars and magical shapes.
She had a black cat and a broomstick and a cauldron. The cauldron was a heavy iron pot which stood on the fire all day and simmered and bubbled. she also had a thick book of spells, full of close writing. She read this book every day and learned how to make magic.
The witch was very happy, sitting with her cloak wrapped round her, reading her Spell Book and learning how to make magic. While she was happy reading, the cat was doing the cooking and the broomstick was busy doing the housework.
Sometimes, when shw was tired of reading, the witch went for a ride through the air on her broomstick. The cat clung on behind. She clung on very tightly because she was afraid she might fall off and lose one of her nine lives. Then she would only have eight left.
The cat was very thin and scrawny because she had to work so hard. She never had time to curl up by the fire and snooze, or to climb trees, or th chase mice and birds. The witch was always wanting a drink of nettle tea which the cat made in the cauldron and doled out with a heavy ladle.
The cat had to gather the nettles which grew around the house, and then boil them up, stirring all the time. Sometimes the witch fancied a drink of tea in the middle of the night and the cat had to get up and heat the cauldron and make it.
The broomstick was in a bad way too. He had to sweep the floor and brish the hearth and dust the furniture. He also had to shake the witch`s feather bed till the feathers flew.
He was always tired and his bristles began to fall out. He would soon go bald. Sometimes he cried salt tears when he swept the bristles off the floor, with the crumbs and bits of nettle stalk.
Neither the cat nor the broomstick had a minute to spare to work in the garden. The witch`s favourite plants were nettles and thistles and sloes, so the garden was wild and tangly.
But one day, a naughty little boy called Tim went for a walk in the woods, instead of going to school with all the other children. He came to the little round house and the witch cast a spell on him. She made him toil all day in the untidy garden. The thistles scratched him and the nettles stung him and the sloes were so sour, they gave him a pain if he ate one.
He was always hungry as he could not bear nettle tea. It tasted simply disgusting.
When the witch`s back was turned, Tim made friends with the black cat and the broomstick.At night, Tim had no proper bed to sllep in. He lay on a sack in the corner. When he could not get to sleep, he lay awake and made plans to escape.
He said to his friends, the cat and the broomstick:"I can read easy words. Shall I try to find a spell in the witch`s Spell Book so that we can turn her into something?"
"Oh yes," agreed the cat and the broomstick. "What a good idea. What shall we turn her into?.
They thought of several good things, such as a black slug or a hedgehog or a rusty nail. But in the end they decided to turn her into a wooden doll. Tim looked up 'doll' in the Spell Book, which said:
"Sprinkle well with pepper and poppy seed and say
'Pix, Pax, Pox' three times".
There were a few poppies in the wild garden and there was plenty of pepper in the cupboard as the witch liked pepper in her tea instead of sugar.
So they made a mixture of poppy seed and pepper and sprinkled it on the witch while she lay asleep, in the feather bed. They all said'Pix, Pax, Pox' three times. The witch shrivelled and shrank and in a twinkling she turned into a little wooden doll, with a tiny pointed hat and a tiny pointed nose and a tiny pointed chin. All the whiskers had gone. It was a good spell. It worked.
After making this magic, they were all very tired, Tim crept into the witch`s soft, feather bed with the cat curled up in his arms. The brromstick stretched out beside the fire, and they had a lovely, long sleep.
The next day they felt rested. Tim held the little doll tightly in his hand. and the cat and he climbed onto the broomstick, which took off into the air.
They flew up, up, over the tree-tops and came down at Tim`s front gate. The broomstick knocked on the door, rat-a-tat. Tim`s mother opened the door and said:
"Come in everybody. Tea is ready." She gave Tim a hug and a kiss.
The cat was fed on milk and fish and she soon grew sleek and fat. The broomstick led an easy life in a warm corner, and was given a new coat of paint. His bristles began to grow again and he soon looked as good as new.
Tim`s little sister, Rosie, took a great fancy to the little wooden doll and carried it with her everywhere. She called her Witchy.
As for Tim, he went to school every single day, and he never once ran off into the wood again.
Ruth Ainsworth. |
The Little Red Hen.
Once upon a time there was a little red hen. She lived with a pig, a duck and a cat. They all lived in a house whcich the little red hen kept clean and tidy. The others never helped. Although they said they meant to, they were all far to lazy. The pig liked to grunt in the mud outside, the duck used to swim in the pond all day, and the cat enjoyed lying in the sun, purring.
One day the little red hen found a grain of corn.
"Who will plant this grain of corn?" she asked.
"Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden.
"Not I," quacked the duck from her pond.
"Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun.
So the little red hen found a nice piece of earth, scratched it with her feet and planted the grain of corn herself.
During the summer the grain of corn grew. First it grew into a green stalk, then it ripened in the sun until it had turned a lovely golden colour.
"Who will help me cut the corn?" asked the little red hen.
"Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden.
"Not I," quacked the duck from her pond.
"Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun.
"Very well then, I shall cut it myself," said the little red hen.
Carefully she cut the stalk and took out all the grains of corn from the husks.
"Who will take the corn to the mill, so that it can be ground into flour?" asked the little red hen.
"Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden.
"Not I," quacked the duck from her pond.
"Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun.
So the little red hen took the corn to the mill herself, and asked the miller to grind it into flour.
In time the miller sent a little bag of flour down to the house where the little red hen lived with the pig, the duck and the cat.
"Who will help me to make the flour into bread?" asked the little red hen.
"Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden.
"Not I," quacked the duck from her pond.
"Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun.
"Very well," said the little red hen. "I shall make the bread myself".
She mixed the flour into dough. She kneaded the dough and put it into the oven to bake.
Soon there was a lovely smell of hot fresh bread. It filled all the corners of the house and wafted out into the garden. The pig came into the kitchen from his muddy patch in the garden, the duck came in from the pond and the cat left his place in the sun. When the little red hen opened the oven door the dough had risen and turned into the most delicious looking loaf.
"Who is going to eat this bread?" asked the little red hen.
"I will," grunted the pig.
"I will," quacked the duck.
"I will," purred the cat.
"Oh no, you won`t," said the little red hen. "I planted the seed, cut the corn, I took it to the mill to be made into flour, and I made the bread, all by myself. I shall eat it all to myself".
The pig, the duck and the cat all stood and watched as the little red hen ate the loaf all by herself. It was delicious and she enjoyed it, right to the very last crumb. |
Puss `n Boots.
Long, long ago, there lived a miller with his three sons. He worked hard grinding wheat for the farmers, but could never manage to save any money. When he died, he left the mill to his eldest son. The second son received a donkey, while the youngest got the family cat.
The eldest son was now in charge of the mill, so the second son decided to take his donkey and seek his fortune elsewhere. The third son felt gloomy, not only because he had lost his father, but because the cat seemed so useless.
"At least people would pay me for carrying loads on a donkey," he moaned, "but what can a cat do except catch mice?"
The cat overheard this remark and, being a very special sort of a cat, he thought he could do better in life than just catching mice. "Young master, I`m worth more than you think," he said.
"You are?" said the young man, amazed to hear a cat talk.
"Get me a cloak, a hat with a big feather, a sack, and a pair of tall, shiny boots, and I`ll prove it to you".
The young man thought it all very strange. Nevertheless, he found some clothes for the cat.
Puss `n Boots, as he came to be known, was delighted. "I`m off to make your fortune, master!"
Puss left the mill and went hunting. He soon caught a fat hare, popped it into the sack, and then trotted up to the big gates of the nearby castle of the king.
"Who goes there?" cried the sentry.
"I am the servant of the noble Marquis of Carabas. He has sent a gift for the king", replied Puss.
"Hmm. Well, you don`t look as if you could do much harm", said the sentry, who wasn`t sure of the rules about cats wearing hats.
Puss `n Boots was escorted into the throne room. He took off his hat and bowed low to the king and queen.
"My master, the noble Marquis of Carabas, sends a gift of a plump, fresh hare from his estate," said Puss.
"How very kind of the Marquis," replied the king politely, even though he had never heard of such a person.
"Please thank him and give him our very best wishes".
For the next few weeks, Puss `n Boots visited the castle often, each time with some new delicacy for the king`s table. Sometimes it was a hare, sometimes some fish. He always presented the food as a gift from the Marquis of Carabas.
At last the curious queen asked Puss, "Is your master a young man?"
"Yes, and handsome too", replied Puss, glancing at the princess, "and very rich,"
When Puss got back to the mill, he told his master about his visit to the king`s castle. The miller`s son was amazed.
The next afternoon Puss took his master to the river beside the road from the king`s castle. When he saw the king`s coach starting out, he said,"Take off your clothes and jump in." Puss hid his master`s clothes in the bushes. Then, as the king`s coach rolled by, he rushed to the road. "Stop! Thieves have attacked my master and stolen his clothes. They threw him into the river and he`s drowning!"
The king`s footman helped the young man out of the river and gave him a cloak. Another servant was sent back to the castle for some clothes, and soon the young man looked as fine as any nobleman.
Meanwhile, Puss `n Boots ran along the road to a great estate. As he passed workers in the fields, he called out, "When the king rides by, tell him this land belongs to the Marquis of Carabas!"
Puss came to the estate castle. It was owned by a fierce ogre who asked him angrily what he wanted. "I hear you can chabge yourself into anything, so I`ve come to see for myself," said Puss `n Boots.
The ogre changed himself into a lion. But Puss said that was too easy; what about changing into a tiny mouse? As soon as the ogre did so, Puss ate the mouse!
All this time, the young man was riding in the king`s coach. He couldn`t help noticing how pretty the princess was. She thought him very handsome, but kept her eyes lowered most of the time. Every once in a while she looked up and smiled. His heart began to beat very fast.
The king, meanwhile, was looking out of the coach window. "What fine hayfields," he remarked to the queen. "Just look at those big haystacks. Why there`s enough to feed a hundred horses all winter long!
He ordered the coachman to stop, and leaned out of the window. "Who owns these fields?" he asked the haymakers.
"The Marquis of Carabas, your majesty," they replied.
"Quite an estate you`ve got here, Marquis," said the king to the young man as they drove up to the castle. But the young man hardly heard a word the king said. He was too busy gazing at the princess.
Puss `n Boots came out of the castle to greet the visitors and led them through the grand rooms. The king saw that the narquis was very rich, and clearly in love with the princess, so he gave her hand in marriage. The princess was delighted, and soon a great wedding feast was held.
"Well, master" whispered Puss `n Boots as the guests raised their glasses to toast the happy couple,"I guess I`m worth a lot more than an old mill or donkey!"
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Dick Whittington And His Cat.
Once upon a time, there was a poor boy who was called Dick Whittington. His mother and father were dead and he had no-one to care for him.
Dick lived in a small village in the country. He tried to work for his living but he could not always find work to do.
Dick was very poor. His clothes were thin and ragged and sometimes he had very little to eat.
In those days, people did not often travel far from the village in which they lived. Dick`s village was a long way from London.
When the village people talked of London, They spoke of it as a wonderful place. They said that all the people in the city of London were rich. They even said that the streets of London were paved with gold.
Dick listened to these tales and he longed to go to London.
Dick thought that if he went to London, he would be able to pick up gold from the streets. The he would become rich and need never feel cold or hungry again.
Dick made up his mind to go to London, although he had no idea how far it was. He made his clothes into a bundle and tied the bundle to the end of his stick. Then he set off to walk along the road to London.
Dick walked a long way but did not reach London. Just as he was begining to feel very tired, a hay cart came along the road. The cart was pulled by big horses and driven by a kind-faced man.
The driver stopped the cart and said to Dick, "Where are you going, my lad?"
"I`m going to London, sir," replied Dick.
"Then jump up beside me," said the driver, "and I`ll take you to London".
When they drove into the city of London, Dick gazed about him in wonder.
First, he was surprised to see how many people there were in the streets. He had never seen so many people before, in all his life. Then he was amazed to see all the fine churches, shops and houses.
When Dick had got over his first wonderment, he began to look for the streets that were paved with gold. Nowhere could he find them.
It grew dark and Dick was tired and hungry. He had nowhere to sleep, so he curled up in a doorway and went to sleep there.
Next morning, Dick tried to find work for himself. He walked along street after street, asking people for work, but no-one had a job to offer him.
When night came, Dick was so weak from hunger and tiredness that he sank down on the nearest doorstep.
Now it happened that this house belonged to a rich man, named Mr. Fitzwarren. He was a merchant who had made his money by selling things to people in other countries.
Mr. Fitzwarren`s cook founf Dick on the doorstep and was angry. "You lazy boy," she cried. "What are you doing there? Get up from my master`s doorstep!.
Poor Dick tried to rise, but he was too weak.
At that very moment, Mr. Fitzwarren himself arrived home.
Mr Fitzwarren was a kind-hearted man. He spoke gently to Dick and listened to his story.
"If it`s work you want," he said, "you can work in my house, for my cook. You will have plenty to eat and a bed to sleep in."
Mr. Fitzwarren then told his cook to take Dick in, feed him and find him some fresh clothes.
Dick was so happy that he could hardly find words with which to thank Mr. Fitzwarren.
Dick`s happiness did not last long. He soon found that the cook was an unkind woman. She was always scolding him and sometimes she used to beat him.
Mr. Fitzwarren had a daughter named Alice. She was kind, like her father, and she knew that the cook was cruel to Dick. Alice took pity on Dick and forbade the cook to hit him.
This made things easier for Dick, although he still had to work very hard.
Dick`s bed was in a cold attic at the top of the house. This attic was overrun with rats and mice. At night, as Dick tried to sleep, the rats and mice rean over his bed. He could not rest.
"If only I had a cat," thought Dick, "She would be a friend to me and see would chase away the rats and mice."
But all the money that Dick had in the world was one penny.
Next day, Dick went to the market with his penny in his pocket. There he saw a woman holding a cat in her arms.
"Please will you sell me your cat?" Dick asked the woman.
"I`m not sure that I want to sell her," said the woman. "She`s a grand cat for catching mice."
"That`s just what I need," said Dick. Then he pleaded so hard that at last the woman agreed to sell him her cat for a penny.
From that day, Dick`s life became happier. He loved his cat and looked upon her as his friend. At night he slept well because his cat chased away all the rats and mice.
Now Mr. Fitzwarren had many ships that sailed to distant lands. Whenever a ship sailed, Mr. Fitzwarren let everyone in his house send something with the captain. These things were sold for good prices in other countries. In this way, everyone had the chance to make extra money for himself.
One day Mr. Fitzwarren called all the servants together. He told them that a ship was ready to sail. Everyone, except Dick, had something to sell.
"Do you not want to send something on my ship?" asked Mr. Fitzwarren.
"I have nothing in the world except my cat," replied Dick.
"Then you must send your cat," said Alice.
Poor Dick did not really want to part with his cat, but, to please Alice, he agreed at last.
The cook made fun of Dick, saying, "Whoever heard of sending a cat on Mr. Fitzwarren`s ship! What use will it be?
Dick missed his cat and wished he had never sent her away. Once more he could not sleep at night, because of the mice running over his bed. Dick was so unhappy that he made up his mind to run away.
Early one morning, he crept out of the house before anyone was awake.
Dick had not gone far when the bells of Bow Church began to ring. The bells seemed to be singing this tune to Dick:
"Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London,
Turn again, Whittington,
Thrice Mayor of London."
"If I am to be Lord Mayor of London," thought Dick. "I 'will' turn again." So, before anyone missed him, he turned back to Mr. Fitzwarren`s house and let himself in.
Meanwhile, on the ship, Dick`s cat was making herself very usefull. The ship was overrun with rats and mice. Dick`s cat was a fine rat-catcher and she soon killed hundreds of them.
After sailing for many weeks, the ship came to a far country. The captain sent to the king of the country, asking if he wanted to buy some of the things from the ship. The king then invited the captain to come to the palace.
A wonderful meal was prepared for the king and queen and the captain. Many servants carried in the food on gold and silver dishes, and set it in front of them.
But before anyone could take a bite, hundreds of rats rushed into the room. The servants tried to drive them back with big sticks, but it was no use. In no time at all, the rats had eaten all the food from the gold and silver dishes.
The captain was astonished by this sight. He turned to the king and asked, "Why do you put up with these rats, Your Majesty?"
"There is nothing we can do about it," replied the king. "Every time we sit down to food, it is the same. My wise men have tried to make spells, but they have not managed to get rid of the rats."
"Then why don`t you have a cat?" asked the captain.
"A cat!" said the queen. "What is a cat?" So the captain described a cat. Then the king and queen told him that there was no such animal in their country.
"What I would give to have a cat!" cried the king.
"Well, what 'would' you give? asked the captain. "I have a cat on board my ship."
"I would give half my kingdom." replied the king.
The captain went back to the ship, picked up Dick`s cat and returned to the palace. He arrived just as the meal was being served. The rats were beginning to eat the food on the gold and silver dishes.
The cat jumped out of the captain`s arms. She killed dozens of rats and the rest fled in fear.
The king and queen were astonished and delighted. "Oh captain! We must have that cat!" cried the queen.
The king agreed to buy Dick`s cat. The queen asked to see what else the captain had for sale.
The sailor`s carried to the king`s palace all the goods they had to sell. The king and queen bought everything.
For Dick`s cat, the king paid ten times as much as he had paid for all the other things put together. He gave the captain a casket full of gold and jewels, in exchange for the cat.
When the ship got home, the captain went straight to Mr. Fitzwarren and told him the good news.
Mr. Fitzwarren was glad to learn that all the goods on the ship had been sold for so much money. He was especially pleased that Dick`s cat had made him a fortune.
Mr. Fitzwarren sent a servant to the kitchen, saying, "Ask Mr. Whittington to step up here, please." Dick thought the servant was making fun of him.
Mr. Fitzwarren handed Dick the casket of jewels. "You are now a very rich man, Mr. Whittington," he said. "Your cat has made your fortune."
Dick could hardly believe his good news. He thanked Mr. Fitzwarren, and the captain, with all his heart.
Miss Alice was very happy to hear about Dick`s good fortune. "First, you must buy yourself some new clothes," she said. Dick did so, and very smart he looked in his new clothes.
Dick was now a wealthy man. When he asked Mr. Fitzwarren if he could marry his daughter, Alice, Mr Fitzwarren was glad to give his consent.
Some years later, Dick became Lord Mayor of London. Indeed, he was Lord Mayor of London three times. So the Bow Bells had been right, when they said to him,
"Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London,
Turn again, Whittington,
Thrice Mayor of London." |
The Mice In Council.
A long time ago, a large, fierce cat lived on a farm. The cat was very good at catching mice. The farmer was very fond of her, as the mice ate his grain and he thought them a terrible nuisance.
The cat knew all the holes used by the mice. She would wait for hours beside a crack in the house wall. Sometimes she would lie absolutely still beside a broken board in the barn. A mouse would peer out, his heart beating with fright, to see if the cat was around. But she was so still that often the little mouse would dart out of the hole. Pounce! The cat had the mouse in her clutches, and that was the end of him.
So successful was the cat that soon the mice were alarmed. "There`ll be none of us left if things go on like this," they whispered to each other.
"Whatever will we do?"
No mouse dared run between the house and the barn anymore. The mice spent most of their time hiding in the farmhouse cellar.
As luck would have it, one day the cat was away from the farm. "Now`s our chance!" said the oldest
mouse, and he summoned all the mice to a meeting
in the cellar.
The oldest mouse stood on an old wooden mug and called the meeting to order. "Brothers and sisters
we must find a solution!"Immediately the others
began squeaking and clamouring for attention.
"One at a time!" shouted the oldest mouse.
"Lets build a huge trap snd put some catnip inside as bait," suggested a young mouse.
"The trap would be too big for us to carry to some lonely place," objected the head mouse. "The farmwe would find it and let her out."
"How about poison?" piped up another mouse. But no one knew where to find any poison.
"I know!" called a mother mouse. "There`s a little bell on a shelf here. All we have to do is tie the bell to the cat`s tail. Thenwe`ll hear her coming!"
"Good idea!" squeaked the mice, chattering excitedly. Two of them clambered onto the shelf and brought the bell to the head mouse.
"Here we are," said the head mouse, tinkling the bell. "Now, to get down to practical matters, who
will put the bell on the cat?"
Suddenly the room was quiet. Then murmours arose.
"I`d do it if only..."
"I can`t because..."
No one had the courage to volunteer. In their heart of hearts, the mice knew that getting close enough to tie the bell on the cat would mean certain death.
Alas, it`s one thing to have a good idea, but quite another to put it into practice! |
The Friendly Pig.
Once upon a time, there was a very friendly pig. Now many pigs are friendly in their way. They will nuzzle your leg if you go into their sty, and sometimes they will nibble your trousers, which is rather annoying. But this particular pig, called Pongo, was very friendly to everyone. And this turned out to be rather a problem.
Pongo was given his mane by the farmer`s daughter,
when her father returned from market with him early one morning. "We`ll call him Pongo," she giggled, as the new pig was put into his sty, "because pigs are so smelly!"
"They`re NOT smeely," protested her father, who had a soft spot for pigs. "It`s only that they are sometimes fed smeely food."
"And what comes out the other end of them isn`t exactly perfumed," laughed his wife.
"I really don`t think," said the poor farmer going rather pink, "that this a suitable subject for the breakfast table. Eat up your crispies, Rosie."
But the name of the new pig stuck, and he was Pongo from that day to this.
On the first day, the farmer put pongo in a beautiful new sty, with lots of stray, a big trough of water and some delicious pig nuts to munch.
Pongo strolled arounf his new home, which did not take long. He rolled around in the straw for a while, and found it pleasantly scratchy on his back. He had a drink of water, and found it cool and refreshing. He had a quick snack of pig nuts, and found them very tasty. Then he rubbed his back against the wall and looked around.
The sty was certainly spacious. Several pigs could have made a happy home there. But Pongo was not happy. There was something missing. Yes, there was definately something missing.
Now you might think that Pongo had everything a pig could wish for, but you would be wrong. As I mentioned before, Pongo was a friendly pig. He had looked all the way round his sty and there was no doubt in his mind. It didn`t contain a friend.
Pongo never was a pig to let the straw settle under his feet. He wiggled his snout at the catch on the gate and found that it might be tricky for a foolish human being to undo, but it was child`s play for a pig.In no time at all, he was trotting happily off into the yard to find someone friendly to talk to.
The first animal that Pongo met was a bustling hen
"Good morning," said the pig politely. "Pongo`s the name," "Henrietta Hen," squawked the feathery
fowl. "Pleased to meet you, I`m sure."
Pong gave a big smile. He had made a friend already. "And I`m please to meet you," he said. "I knew a very nice hen back at my last farm. I`m sure you and I can be great friends."
"Maybe so, maybe not" squawked Henrietta, "but just at the moment, I haven`t time to stop. I`ve got six little chicks in a hen coop the size of a shoebox, and it`s almost time I laid some more eggs. Where everyone is going to fit in, I don`t know."
"May I make a suggestion?" snuffled Pongo."I`ve a beautiful sty, far too large for a bachelor pig like myself. There is straw for a nest and a trough of water and even some quite tasty snacks.
Why not make yourself at home there? Your family would like it, I`m sure."
Henrietta Hen cocked her head on one side. Live in a pigsty? Well, it was better than a shoebox, she supposed.
I`m much obliged to you, Pongo," she said briskly
"we`ll move in this morning. But I hope you won`t mind me mentioning something..." "Anything, dear lady!" "Well, you will be careful, won`t you, where you put your trotters when my new eggs are laid?" "Don`t give it a moment`s thought," said Pongo. "I was winner of the pig polka prize on my last farm two years running. You will find my footwork as dainty as any you have seen."
Pongo wandered happily across the farmyard. Not only had he made a friend, but he had found a whole family to share his sty. What could be more delightful than that?.
The next animal that Pongo met was Gobbles the goat. He was tethered by a long chain to one side of the barn. He could reach a trough of food and one of water, but he couldn`t reach any of the beautiful flowers in the garden next to the farmhouse. "greetings!" called Pongo. "Allow me to introduce myself. Pongo`s the name. Pongo by name but not by nature! Ha ha!" "My name is Gobbles," said the goat with a giggle. "Gobbles by name and by nature, I`m afraid." "Is that, excuse my mentioning it," said Pongo politely, the reason for the chain?" "It is," said Gobbles
"There was an unfortunate incident with some washing. Who would think humans could be so finicky about their clothes? I mean why do they need TWO legs in a pair of trousers? They would stay on perfectly well with just one."
"Well, but they do have two legs themselves," said Pongo reasonably. "I know it`s very unfortunate for them not to have four legs like us, and perhaps we shouldn`t mention it, but you can understand how, having only two legs, they might like to cover them up."
"I suppose so," said the goat. "But did you know humans are lopsided?" "Lopsided?" "Yes, they have to have special boots because their feet are different shapes. Even the two feet they do have are not the same, you see."
"I didn`t know that," said Pongo. "How did you find it out?" "There were four wellington boots standing outside the back door," explained Gobbles, "and I, well, I had a little chew at a couple of them. I thought that would be fine, because no human can wear more than two boots at once, after all. But it seems I nibbled the wrong two boots. The two that were left were for the same foot, Now I`m stuck here at the end of this chain, and I`m not very happy, as you can well imagine."
"Would you promise," said Pongo,"on your honour as a goat, not to eat washing or boots if I undid your chain?"
"I would certainly promise that, and I would be your friend for life," said Gobbles, eyeing the flowers around the farmhouse.
Of course, when he heard that, Pongo didn`t hesitate. He wiggled his snout and rattled the chain until it was undone. Then he trotted off happily to make another new friend.
Primrose the cat was lazily sleeping on a sunny
wall when Pongo walked by. The pig cleared his throat politely. "Good morning," he said. "I`m Pongo, and I`m glad to see you enjoying yourself
this fine and friendly morning."
The cat rubbed her paws across her eyes. "I`m pleased to meet you," she said. "But it is not a fine morning by any means.
The farmer has just told me that he will sell me if I don`t catch more mice."
"That`s dreadful," said Pongo. "Could I help at all?"
Primrose tried to summon up a picture of a pig catching a mouse, but it seemed very, very unlikely.
"I don`t think so," said the cat, jumping down to a bowl of milk that had been left for her on the grass below.
"Why does the farmer want you to catch the mice? asked Pongo, curiously.
"Because they eat the corn in the barn," said Primrose with a large yawn. "I thought everyone knew that."
"So if we could persuade them to eat something else," asked Pongo, "the farmer would be happier with you?
"I suppose so," Primrose agreed, "but I don`t see how such a thing could be done."
"Just leave it to me," said Pongo. "I`m quite good at talking to mice. There were a lot of them on my last farm."
So Pongo wiggled his snout and undid the latch on the barn. Sure enough, inside there were hundreds
of sacks of corn. There were also hundreds of mice! "Pongo`s the name. Could I have a word?" called the friendly pig.
Half an hour later, Pongo and the mice had finished a most satisfactory chat. A few minutes after that, he accompanied the mice to the back of the farmhouse and used his famous snout-wiggling technique to open the pantry window. Then he strolled off back to the farmyard, happy to have made yet more new friends.
On the way, he introduced himself to Horace the horse, who was looking wistfully out of his stable at the lively goings-on in the farmyard.
"I wish I could go into your sty," said the horse, although there really would not have been room for him. "I wish I could go anywhere at all, but I just have to stay here all day. I really can`t remember the last time one of the children
took me for a ride."
"Why not come for a bit of a stroll with me?" asked Pongo. "It`s such a friendly farmyard out here." "But I can`t get out," explained Horace sadly.
Pongo had a careful look at the bolts on the stable. "No problem," he said.
The farmer was in a hurry when he rushed in for his lunch, but as he sat down, one or two odd things that he had only half noticed on his way across the farmyard began to creep into his tired mind.
"There are hens in the pigsty," he said slowly, "and they`re eating the pig nuts."
A foolish face smiled at him from the window.
"There`s a goat in the flower-bed," cried the farmer, running out of the farmhouse, "and he`s eating my petunias!"
He raced across the yard, pulling on his coat as he went.
"There`s a horse in the barn, and he`s eating my corn!" he cried, diving back towards the house again.
At the doorway, he collied with his wife.
"There are mice in my pantry, and they`re eating my pies!" she shouted, as the force of the collision swept them both into the farmhouse.
"And there`s s pig in my parlour, and he`s eating my dinner!" The farmer collapsed into a chair.
"Good afternoon," said Pongo. "We didn`t have much of a chance for a chat this morning. How are things going this very fine day?"
You may not be surprised to learn that Pongo the friendly pig no longer lives on the farm. After quite a lot of muttering about chops and chitterlings, the farmer took him to a children`s
farm, where Pongo is in his element. All day long, he makes new friends and chats with his neighbours. And the latch on his pen is extra-specially-wiggly-snout-proof!
|
The Farmhouse Mouse.
When Farmer Brown had to fill in forms about who lived in the farmhouse
at Daffodil Farm, this what he put:
David James Brown, 43 years
Megan Sarah Brown, 40 years
Mathew James Brown, 14 years
Peter David Brown, 14 years
Eleanor Jane Brown, 10 years
Ben, {sheep dog} 9 years
Carla, {cat} 7years
Barley, {cat] 6 years
Ruffles, {guinea pig} 2 years
Bubbles, {goldfish} 1 year
Mouse, {mouse} who knows?
Perhaps you can tell from thsi list of all the animals and people who lived with the farmer and his wife, only one gave him sleepless nights and anxious days. It was that wretched little mouse, who lived somewhere in the walls or up in the attic, or under the floorboards, and who crept out almost every night snd nibbled something or other in the farmhouse kitchen.
At night, the farmer lay awake and felt sure he could hear the pattering of tiny feet tiptapping
down the stairs. Many times he had crept out of bed in his pyjamas and felt his way down into the kitchen without turning the light on, determined to catch that annoying little creature as it helped itself to yet another piece of pie or chunk of cheese.
But the farmer never so much as glimpsed a tiny twirly tail disappearing around the corner. Instead, he twice stubbed his toe on the hall table and once banged his nose VERY hard on a grandfather clock that he had forgotten was there
There was no doubt about it. That mouse was just too clever for Farmer Brown, and although he tried to persuade all his family to help him catch
the little scamperer, it was too clever for Mrs Brown, or the twins, or Eleanor, or the dog, or the cats, or the hamster, or even the goldfish
{although to be fair, as he could not leave his bowl, it would have been hard for him to help with this important project}.
But, you will be asking, what ABOUT those cats? Isn`t that one of the reasons that farmers keep cats - to catch mice? Well, when it came to catching mice, those cats were worse than useless.
Carls was a great big fluffy white cat, so fat that she could hardly move. No self-respecting mouse would have been caught by Carla because you could hear her wheezing half a house away as she waddled towards you. Barley was not much better. He was a daredevil cat, and his exploits always ended in disaster. Barley was not content to sit quietly by a mouse-hole, waiting for it`s little occupant to emerge, Oh no. Barley had to climb up on a cupboard on the opposite wall, ready to make a death-defying leap if he saw so much as a twitching whisker. Barley¬s leaps were famous in the farmhouse, because he hardly ever leapt alone. Sometimes it was the saucepans, sometimes the crockery, sometimes bags of flour that came crashing to the ground with him. By the time Barley had picked himself up and dusted himself down, any twitching whiskers had long since disappeared. The cats also put paid to the farmer`s attempts to catch the mouse in a trap. First Carla, clumsily wandering into the kitchen, caught her fluffy tail in the trap and set off such a wailing that the whole house was woken. Then Barley, leaping from the table, jumped straight into the trap. He had sore toes for a month, which made his leaps more destructive than before.
So the cats were no help at all, and the farmer regularly made threats to send them to the cats` home and buy a certified mouser who would rid him
of the cheeky little pest once and for all.
Now I will tell you the real reason why the farmer never catches the farmhouse mouse, but you must promise never to tell him. IT`S BECAUSE THERE ISN`T ONE AT ALL. The pieces of pie, the chunks of cheese, the nibbles of this and that, all go straight into the tummies of the dog, the cats, the hamster and even the goldfish. THEY`RE not going to tell the farmer that there are only ten inhabitants in the farmhouse. Are you?
|
Too Many Cats!
How many cats would you say were TOO many? Four? Six? Ten? Twenty-four
Mrs Martin, who lived at Maple Farm with her two daughters LOVED cats. There were thirty-six of them on the farm, and she knew them all by name.
It had all started with two little kittens called
Moppet and Poppet. After a couple of years, Moppet had four little kittens> after another couple of years, those kittens had kittens of their own, and so it went on. And as well as the cats that were born on Maple Farm, others came to
visit and simply never seemed to go back to their
own homes again. Mrs Martin counted them as permanent visitors.
One day the Government Vet came to call. He was happy with the contented pigs and healthy cows.
He approved of the way Mrs. Martin was looking after her sheep and goats. He even gave a clean bill of health to the hens, ducks and geese. But
when it came to cats, he drew the line.
"You have too many cats on the farm, Mrs.Martin," he said. "Some of them will have to go."
"How many is too many?" asked Mrs. Martin, just as I asked you at the begining of the story.
"Shall we say that half of them must go? suggested the vet. "I expect it to be done by the
next time I call, in a month`s time."
Mrs. Martin went back into the farmhouse with her
mouth set in a severe line. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down in her chair with a THUMP.
"I`m not doing it," she said. There is plenty of room on this farm for my cats - and more too if they arrive. They are all well, fed and happy. Why should I gat rid of any of them? And anyway, which ones would I choose? The old cats who have never known another home? Or the young ones who still need their mothers?
Mrs. Martin`s daughters tried to persuade her to be sensible.
"That man can make you close down the farm, if you don`t do as he says," they protested. "Can`t you find good homes for some of the cats?"
"Good homes?" cried Mrs. Martin. "Half of those
cats are here because they were unhappy in their
own homes. I can`t send them out to people who may not take care of them. Do you think that`s the kind of person I am? No those catsare staying here."
Still, as the weeks passed, Mrs. Martin did begin to feel a little worried. Would the Government Vet really close down her farm? As the day of the
next inspection drew near, all kinds of wild ideas passed through her mind. Could she hide half the cats until he was gone? Could she give
him some of her cowslip wine, so that he wouldn`t be able to count properly? Could she pretend to
be ill and ask for more time? None of these ideas seemed very helpful.
The day of the Government Vet`s visit dawned sunny and warm. Everywhere you looked around the farmyard there were cats lying in the sun or delicately licking their paws. It was the worst possible day for a cat count.
The Government Vet had a clipboard and a calculator. The Government Vet had sharp little eyes behind shiny spectacles. He spent two hours
walking around the farm, making notes as he went.
When he arrived back at the farmhouse, Mrs. Martin was waiting for him with a cup of tea.
"Thank you," said the Government Vet. "I needed that. Now, Mrs. Martin, I have done a through count, and I find that you have thirty-six cats.
Does that agree with your figures?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Martin faintly.
"Now," said the Government Vet, "I didn`t do a full count before, so how many cats were there last time I called at Maple Farm?"
Mrs. Martin crossed her fingers behind her back and suppressed a desire to giggle. It was going to be all right. She looked the Government Vet
squarely in the eye and said without a blush,
"Sir, there were seventy-two."
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Little Kittens And The Big Cats.
Veda, Rufus, Oscar and Lullaby scampered along the pink path that leads to the road. At the road they stop, look left and right and then look left again.
When it is safe, they cross the road to the zoo. The little kittens are excited. They are going to see the big cats.
"Look, there is a lion," says Veda.
"I wish I had a mane of hair like that."
Veda tries to fluff up the fur around her face with her claws.
"I wish I was as big as a lion," says Rufus standing straight and tall and puffing out his chest.
Oscar and Lullaby have found the tiger`s den. The tiger is eating her dinner. It must be feeding time at the zoo. When she growls loudly, Lullaby is frightened and the fur on her back stands up.
"I wish I could growl like that," says Oscar. Oscar takes a deep breath, opens his mouth wide, but instead of growling, he just miaows. Lullaby thinks this is funny and can not stop laughing.
At first the kittens do not see the spotted leopard lying on a branch high in a tree. He is swinging his long, long tail backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards.
"I wish my tail was longer." says Lullaby. Lullaby runs around and around in circles trying to catch her tail. This makes her very dizzy.
"Where is Oscar?" asks Lullaby as they head for home. From somewhere above their heads they hear a faint growl. The three kittens look up. There, stretched out on a branch is Oscar. His tail swinging backwards and forwards, and backwards and forwards.
"Come down," they shout.
"it is feeding time at home."
By Kate Brookes. |
Little Kittens In The Dark.
The little kittens are so busy exploring the woods that they don`t notice the sun going down. It`s only when they hear the old owl hoot and see a badger coming out of it`s set, that they realise it is night-time.
"We want to go home," miaow Rufus, Lullaby and Oscar.
Veda looks around. She doesn`t know which path will take them home.
"I think we are lost," she says.
The frightened kittens take a winding path that leads into a corn field. The corn stalks are so tall, that even when they stand one on top of another, the kittens cannot see over them.
Suddenly there is loud rustle in the corn.
Rabbits and field mice scurry to their nests. The kittens can see well in the dark but they are too scared to look to see what is coming.
"Found you at last," says Sally Squirrel, popping her head between the corn stalks.
"How did you find us>" asks Veda.
"Old Owl and Badger showed me which path you took," answers Sally.
"can you take us home now?" the kittens miaow.
The little kittens follow Sally through the woods.
Old Owl hoots to tell all the animals that the kittens are safe.
In the distance the kittens see their home and Mother Cat sitting on the wall.
Mother Cat gives them all a big hug and Oscar asks
"May we explore the woods again tomorrow?"
Can you guess what the other kittens say?
By Kate Brookes. |
The Fairy Kitten.
There was once a little boy called John. He lived with his mother and Father in a lovely little cottage at the edge of the woods. Usually he was a happy little boy, who laughed and played all day in the sunshine, but just lately he had been very unhappy because his little grey kitten had run away and got lost.
John Had looked everywhere for her - in the house
in the garden, in the summer house, in the garage
and in the road.
"She may have run into the wood," said his mother.
"Go and see if you can find her there, John."
So off John went to the woods where primroses and
celandines were flowering, and where the silver pussy willow shone pale and soft in the warm spring sun.
But his kitten was nowhere to be found, and John could have cried with disappointment. He had so loved playing with her. He was sure he would never find another kitten that was as pretty as she was.
Suddenly he stopped still and listened. Was that a mew that he heard?
Surely it was!.
The noise came again softly, very high and quiet, not exactly like a mew, but John couldn`t think what it could be. He began looking about to see where the noise came from. It sounded as though it came from somewhere low down.
Yes, it came from the gorse bush! Surely his poor little kitty couldn`t be in there!
"Kitty! Kitty!" he called, peeping into the bush.
A little high voice answered him.
"Oh, help me, please. I`m caught in the prickles!"
John was so surprised to hear the tiny voice, that he could hardly speak.
"Who are you?" he asked at last.
"I`m a pixie-piper," said the little voice. "The wind blew me right off my feet and landed me here, and I can`t get out! Will you help me?"
"A pixie!" sais John excitedly.
"Yes, I`ll help you! I`ve never seen a pixie before! But, oh, my! It`s rather prickly!"
He put his hands right into the gorse bush and pressed back the branches. There, in the middle, was a tiny pixie, dressed in red and yellow. Carefully John lifted him out of the bush and set him down on the ground.
"Oh, thank you!" cried the pixie. "You are kind to help me, but look at your poor hands. They are covered in scratches and scrapes. And why do you look so unhappy?"
"I`m upset because I`ve lost my kitten," said John sadly, and told the little pixie all about it
"Dear, dear, that`s very sad!" said the piper.
"But don`t worry, I`ll help you. I think I know where your kitten may be. The fairies love kittens
If they`ve found yours, they`ll have changed her
into a fairy kitten. She won`t be very far away.
But we will have to use some pixie magic to find her. Have you ever seen a fairy kitten?"
"No, but I`d LOVE to," said John excitedly. "Where
are they kept?"
"There`s plenty over there!" laughed the pixie-piper, pointing to a big pussy willow.
John looked. He could only see a bush with soft,
silvery buds growing all over it.
The pixie took up his pipe, and softlt he began to play a lovely tune, looking at the pussy willow bush all the time.
John looked too, and he saw a wonderful sight -
so wonderful he could hardly believe his eyes! For the silver pussy willow buds had changed into tiny, furry kittens, and one by one they scrambled
down the branches to the ground and ran to the piper.
They danced and frisked round him, and ran after their little tails, for all the world like real kittens.
The piper stopped playing on his pipe.
"Now," he said, "you have to find your kitten. Which one is she? Quick! Can you see her? You must find her before they all go back to the tree and turn into pussy willow again!"
John ran after them, and picked up a little silvery kitten small enough to fit into a nutshell
he had found his kitty!
Then he watched the others climb up the branches
and one by one turn into soft, silvery buds again!
The piper blew his pipe once more, and John`s kitten grew bigger and bigger until it was just the right size.
"There you are!" said the pixie."Don`t tell anyone it`s a fairy kitten. They won`t believe you
Thank you for helping me, and I`m glad I`ve been able to help you in return. Goodbye."
He vanished, and left John alone with his fairy
kitten. He ran home as fast as he could.
"Why, John!" cried his mother, "so you`ve found your kitty after all! I AM glad!"
John told heaps of people how he found his fairy kitten - but the pixie was right, nobody believed him. Not even his best friend Robert.
He didn`t mind. He knew what nobody else did -
and that was the place where fairy kittens come from!
And next time you see pussy wiilow, have a good look at it. I think you will say it`s no wonder the fairies made kittens from such soft furry buds
By Enid Blyton.
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Tiny And Twinkletoes.
Five spaniel puppies were playing together in the garden. Squeaking and yapping, they made a wriggling mass of plump bodies and floppy ears. suddenly there was a loud squeak, and from underneath the wriggling bodies crawled Maximus.
Maximus was the smallest and weakest of the puppies, and he ALWAYS seemed to be the one who got sat on.
His brothers and sisters laughed at his name. Maximus means "the greatest" they said, but he was a very small puppy and so they called him Tiny
Twinkletoes, the kitten who lived next door, had come to play with the puppies. They chased each
other round the garden, and Tiny was the only puppy who could not catch her. When one of his
bigger brothers pushed him, Tiny accidently trod on Twinkletoes` tail. This made Twinkletoes cross, and she scratched Tiny`s nose. Poor Tiny!
Tiny looked for his mother to lick his scratch
better, but she was fasr asleep and he did not want to wake her up. Sadly he sat down and watched the other puppies play. Soon, the puppies would all be chosen to go to new homes. But who will want a small weak puppy like me? thought Tiny
Miserably, as he wandered down the garden on his own.
At the bottom of the garden there was a thick hawthorn hedge, and somewhere on the other side a bird was singing merrily. Tiny found a small gap in the hedge, and pushed and wriggled his way through it. Yes, it was a thrush singing, telling
Tiny to forget his troubles because it was a lively day. It IS a lovely day, thought Tiny,and I`m going to explore!
With his head in the air, Tiny trotted across a small field and into the farmyard.
SQUEAK, SQUEAL, SNORT, AND SNUFFLE.
Whatever was making all that noise over the wall?
He saw there were some broken straw bales piled against the wall, so he clambered up them. Peering over the top into the sty he watched a family of piglets playing.
There was an even louder squeal and one piglet, smaller than the rest, limped away to his mother.
Poor little piglet - Tiny knew just how he felt!
Tiny wandered on, and went into a big barn. It was dark in the barn after the bright sunlight in the yard, and Tiny bumped into a sack of corn. There was a cluck, cluck, clucking and a hen with her fluffy yellow chicks jumped up from the straw.
Then there was a louder, angrier clucking, and there stood a cockeral. Tiny took one look at his big sharp beak, then turned and ran away from the barn and out of the farmyard.
He WAS thirsty - he would go to the river for a drink. He lapped the water thirstily, then looked round. There was Twinkletoes at the top of the bank - she must have followed him!
A duck who had been asleep with her ducklings on the bank had also seen Twinkletoes, and she was leading her babies quickly down the bank to the safety of the water. Suddenly there was a great gust of wind - WHOOSH - and all the ducklings were
blown over and rolled, plop, plop, plop into the river. And, last of all, Twinkletoes rolled after them!
Splash! Twinkletoes had fallen in the river too.
The ducklings could all swim, but Tiny knew that Twinkletoes could not. There was a small log on the edge of the river, and Tiny scratched and scraped until it moved, then pushed it with his nose until it rolled into the water near Twinkletoes.
"Climb on to the log, Twinkletoes," shouted Tiny, "and I will run and get help."
He watched as Twinkletoes, slipping and slidding, clawed her way on to the log. she was cold, wet and miserable, but she was safe, so Tiny turned and ran for home as fast as his little legs would carry him.
Scamper, scamper - oh, what a long way it was to run. Buzz, buzz, buzz - out of the way, Mr Bumble. Hurry, scurry, with his head down.... Ouch
He was caught in the brambles. He tugged himself away from the prickles and, thinking of Twinkletoes, forgot the scratches as he rushed on home.
Back through the hedge and up the garden he ran. His mother, who was lying in the sun, junped up when she saw him. Scratched and muddy, puffing and
panting, he told her that Twinkletoes had fallen in the river.
It didn`t take long for Tiny`s mother to run to the river, and there she saw Twinkletoes floating
slowly down on the log. She plunged into the water
and swam to the log. Clutching Twinkletoes firmly
by the scruff of her neck, she swam to the bank. Soon Twinkletoes was safely back home.
The next day, when Tiny`s mother had cleaned him up and soothed his scratches, she had great news for him. He had been chosen to go to a new home! Twinkletoes` owners wanted him to live with them
because they thought he was such a clever little puppy. His brothers and sisters WERE proud of him!
He was the first puppy to be chosen to go to a new home! He might be small, but he was big enough to save Twinkletoes` life. Nobody called him Tiny now. He was Maximus - Though he would not object to being called Max for short sometimes.
Happily he walked into his new home where Twinkletoes waited for him - and gave him a lick on the tip of his nose.
By Audrey Tarrant.
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