Short Stories - 1min - 22nd

Module Code SSD 06 Title of Module Communication Skills
Assignment 1 Type Individual

Assignment 1: 1 min pre-prepared speech of short stories
It will take about 3-5 min to read these stories out loud. Summarize the important points in
50–60 seconds. Please time yourself so that it is no more than 60 seconds
# Details What will be evaluated?
1 • Read the given story and prepare a summary for
50-60 sec. You can tell the background of the story
• Comprehension and ability
if you like. If you want, you can use dialogues.
to summarize important
• Pick the story depending on your number.
points
• Eg: Story 1: The Millionaire Miser is for A1,
• Clarity of writing,
B1, C1, D1 etc
grammar, spelling
• Eg: Story 2: The Bogey-Beast is for A2, B2,
C2, D2 etc
2 • Body language, eye contact
• Oral presentation: turn on your video and present
• Confidence, voice
your pre-prepared speech. 50-60 seconds. Please
projection
practice and time your speech for less than 1 min.
• Time management
3 • Reflection: Write a short (1 page) about what were
the feedback given during the workshop and your • Clarity of writing,
reflection on it; Any new words you found in this grammar, spelling
story? Do you think it was helpful? Do you think • Active listening when
you have the ability to improve? How do you plan feedback was given
to improve?
Assignment Administrative Aspects
• The assignment should be named as “ShortStory_@#_ABCD.pdf/doc/docx” where @
is the group letter, # is your number in the group and ABCD is the last 4 digits of your
index number
• Eg: ShortStory_A1_3797.docx, ShortStory_A2_3798.docx
• Accepted file types *.docx, *.doc and *.pdf only.
• Cover page with Module code, module name, program name, assignment no, student
index no, name, date of submission (which should be the deadline if submitted earlier)
• Paper size: A4
• Margins 1” all around
• 1.5 line spacing
• Font: Times New Roman 12 pt
• Headings: bold Times New Roman 14pt
• Section 1: Summary
• Section 2: Reflection
• Deadline: 30th October 2021 11:55pm
• Copying or cheating will result in ‘zero’ marks
i
Short Stories
Faculty of Engineering
22nd batch
Certificate Course for Soft Skills
Development (CCSSD)
Contents
1 The Millionaire Miser ..................................................................................... 1
2 The Bogey-Beast ............................................................................................ 4
3 The Three Little Pigs ...................................................................................... 6
4 The Lady of Stavoren ..................................................................................... 8
5 The Tale of Peter Rabbit ............................................................................... 11
6 The Bremen Town Musicians....................................................................... 13
7 The Little Match Girl .................................................................................... 15
8 Father Frost ................................................................................................... 17
9 Quackling ...................................................................................................... 19
10 The Baker’s Dozen .................................................................................... 22
11 The Boy Who Drew Cats .......................................................................... 24
12 How Frog Went to Heaven ........................................................................ 26
13 The Calabash Kids ..................................................................................... 30
14 Too-too-moo and the Giant ....................................................................... 33
15 The Wicked Girl ........................................................................................ 36
16 The Gifts of Friday Eve ............................................................................. 39
17 Rapunzel .................................................................................................... 42
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1 The Millionaire Miser
A Buddhist Fable
Sushil was a miser. Though his treasure house was full, he was too stingy to give away even
the smallest coin. And since food cost money, he ate almost nothing, and starved his family
and servants besides.
One morning, as Sushil took his daily walk through town, he saw a young boy eating a
sweet rice dumpling. Sushil’s mouth watered as he made his way home.
“If only I could ask my wife to make me a sweet dumpling,” he said to himself. “But
if I wanted one, so would my wife. And if my wife wanted one, so would the children. And if
the children wanted one, so would the servants. So I had better just keep quiet.”
When Sushil arrived home, he said nothing about a dumpling. But he wanted one so
badly, he felt weak. His legs shook, and he had to go to bed.
His wife, Nirmala, came to him. She asked, “What is wrong, my husband?”
Sushil lay groaning and clenched his teeth.
“Is there something you want?” said Nirmala.
Sushil’s face grew red, then purple. At last he squeaked, “I would like a sweet rice
dumpling.”
“That is no problem,” said Nirmala. “We are
wealthy enough. Why, I will make sweet dumplings for
the whole town!”
Sushil gasped in horror. “You will make a pauper
of me!”
“Well then,” said Nirmala, “I will make
dumplings for our family and servants.”
“Why would the servants need any?” said Sushil.
“Then I will make them for us and the children.”
“I am sure the children can do without.”
“Then I will make one for you and one for me.”
“Why would you want one?” said Sushil.
Nirmala sighed and went out, and returned after a while with a single sweet dumpling.
Then she looked on as Sushil, moaning with delight, devoured every crumb.
1
Now, it happened that all this was seen by Sakka, the King of Heaven, who was sitting
on his marble throne in his thousand-mile-high palace. “Not in seventy-seven millennia,” he
declared, “have I ever seen such a miser. I will teach this fellow not to be so stingy.”
So the god waited till the next day, when Sushil left on his morning walk. Then he made
himself look just like Sushil and came down to earth.
Sakka walked into Sushil’s house as if he were Sushil himself. In Sushil’s own voice he
told a servant, “Run through the town and invite everyone you see. Today Sushil will share his
wealth!”
When Nirmala heard these words, she cried, “Husband, can this be true? Heaven be
praised for your change of heart!” Then she helped him open the treasure house.
Soon the people of the town arrived. “Take what you will!” said the pretend Sushil. “And
if anyone who looks like me tries to stop you, drive away the scoundrel!”
“Thanks to Lord Sushil!” cried the townspeople. “The most generous man alive!” They
rushed into the treasure house and loaded themselves with gold, silver, diamonds, and pearls.
Just then, the real Sushil came home. When he saw his treasure being carried out the
gate, he screamed, “Robbers! Thieves! Put that back! How dare you!”
But the townspeople said, “This must be the one that Lord Sushil warned us about.” And
they chased Sushil halfway across town.
Sushil rushed on to the Rajah’s court. “Your Majesty,” he declared, “the people of the
town are taking all I own!”
“But your own servant invited them!” said the Rajah. “I heard him myself. Did you not
give the order?”
“Never!” said Sushil. “If the order was given, I beg you to bring the one who gave it!”
So the Rajah sent a messenger. Soon came Sakka, still pretending to be Sushil, along
with Nirmala and the children. The children stared wide-eyed at the two Sushils, and Nirmala
nearly fainted.
“Impostor!” screamed Sushil.
“Deceiver!” screamed Sakka.
“I cannot tell the difference between you,” said the bewildered Rajah. He turned to
Nirmala. “Can you say which is the true Sushil?”
Nirmala looked at both men. “Your Majesty,” she said, “may I ask them a question?”
“Certainly,” said the Rajah.
Nirmala turned to Sakka. “Is it better to be generous to yourself, to your family, to your
servants, or to your neighbors?”
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“It is best to be generous to all!” answered Sakka. “When you are generous, others also
grow generous, and everyone is wealthier.”
Then Nirmala turned to Sushil. “Is it better to be generous to yourself, to your family, to
your servants, or to your neighbors?”
“To none!” shrieked Sushil. “It is a waste of wealth that can never be regained!”
Nirmala took a deep breath, gathered the children, then drew close to Sakka. She said,
“This is the true Sushil, Your Majesty.”
“But, Nirmala!” cried Sushil. “My wife! My children!”
At that, the god stepped forward, and with a blinding flash of light changed back to his
own shape. “Your Majesty, I am not Sushil but Sakka. I came down from Heaven to teach this
man a lesson.”
He turned to the trembling and downcast Sushil. “Do you see? You are so stingy, even
your wife and children deny you.”
Sushil moaned.
“There is but one hope for you,” said Sakka. “Will you stop being such a miser?”
“Well,” said Sushil, “maybe I could be a little more generous.”
“A little more?” demanded Sakka.
“Well, maybe a little more than a little more,” said Sushil.
“You had better be a lot more generous,” said Sakka. “Or I’ll be back!”
And with another flash of light, he vanished.
“Well!” said the Rajah to Sushil. “It seems you indeed have been taught a good lesson!”
“I suppose so, Your Majesty,” said Sushil. He turned shyly to Nirmala. “Wife?” he said,
holding out his hand.
“Husband!” she said, taking it. “Oh, husband, let us celebrate! I have an idea. Let us
make sweet rice dumplings for the entire town!”
Sushil gasped in horror. His legs shook. He groaned and clenched his teeth. His face
grew red, then purple. Then he squeaked—
“All right!”
How to Say the Names
Nirmala ~ NEER-ma-la
Sakka ~ SOK-a (sounds like “sock a”)
Sushil ~ SOO-shil
3
2 The Bogey-Beast
There was once a woman who was very, very cheerful,
though she had little to make her so; for she was old, and
poor, and lonely. She lived in a little bit of a cottage and
earned a scant living by running errands for her neighbours,
getting a bite here, a sup there, as reward for her services. So
she made shift to get on, and always looked as spry and
cheery as if she had not a want in the world.
Now one summer evening, as she was trotting, full of smiles
as ever, along the high road to her hovel, what should she
see but a big black pot lying in the ditch!
"Goodness me!" she cried, "that would be just the very thing
for me if I only had something to put in it! But I haven't! Now who could have left it in the
ditch?"
And she looked about her expecting the owner would not be far off; but she could see nobody.
"Maybe there is a hole in it," she went on, "and that's why it has been cast away. But it would
do fine to put a flower in for my window; so I'll just take it home with me."
And with that she lifted the lid and looked inside. "Mercy me!" she cried, fair amazed. "If it
isn't full of gold pieces. Here's luck!"
And so it was, brimful of great gold coins. Well, at first she simply stood stock-still, wondering
if she was standing on her head or her heels. Then she began saying:
"Lawks! But I do feel rich. I feel awful rich!"
After she had said this many times, she began to wonder how she was to get her treasure home.
It was too heavy for her to carry, and she could see no better way than to tie the end of her
shawl to it and drag it behind her like a go-cart.
"It will soon be dark," she said to herself as she trotted along. "So much the better! The
neighbours will not see what I'm bringing home, and I shall have all the night to myself, and
be able to think what I'll do! Mayhap I'll buy a grand house and just sit by the fire with a cup
o' tea and do no work at all like a queen. Or maybe I'll bury it at the garden foot and just keep
a bit in the old china teapot on the chimney-piece. Or maybe—Goody! Goody! I feel that grand
I don't know myself."
By this time she was a bit tired of dragging such a heavy weight, and, stopping to rest a while,
turned to look at her treasure.
And lo! it wasn't a pot of gold at all! It was nothing but a lump of silver.
She stared at it, and rubbed her eyes, and stared at it again.
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"Well! I never!" she said at last. "And me thinking it was a pot of gold! I must have been
dreaming. But this is luck! Silver is far less trouble—easier to mind, and not so easy stolen.
Them gold pieces would have been the death o' me, and with this great lump of silver—"
So she went off again planning what she would do, and feeling as rich as rich, until becoming
a bit tired again she stopped to rest and gave a look round to see if her treasure was safe; and
she saw nothing but a great lump of iron!
"Well! I never!" says she again. "And I mistaking it for silver! I must have been dreaming. But
this is luck! It's real convenient. I can get penny pieces for old iron, and penny pieces are a deal
handier for me than your gold and silver. Why! I should never have slept a wink for fear of
being robbed. But a penny piece comes in useful, and I shall sell that iron for a lot and be real
rich—rolling rich."
So on she trotted full of plans as to how she would spend her penny pieces, till once more she
stopped to rest and looked round to see her treasure was safe. And this time she saw nothing
but a big stone.
"Well! I never!" she cried, full of smiles. "And to think I mistook it for iron. I must have been
dreaming. But here's luck indeed, and me wanting a stone terrible bad to stick open the gate.
Eh my! but it's a change for the better! It's a fine thing to have good luck."
So, all in a hurry to see how the stone would keep the gate open, she trotted off down the hill
till she came to her own cottage. She unlatched the gate and then turned to unfasten her shawl
from the stone which lay on the path behind her. Aye! It was a stone sure enough. There was
plenty light to see it lying there, douce and peaceable as a stone should.
So she bent over it to unfasten the shawl end, when—"Oh my!" All of a sudden it gave a jump,
a squeal, and in one moment was as big as a haystack. Then it let down four great lanky legs
and threw out two long ears, nourished a great long tail and romped off, kicking and squealing
and whinnying and laughing like a naughty, mischievous boy!
The old woman stared after it till it was fairly out of sight, then she burst out laughing too.
"Well!" she chuckled, "I am in luck! Quite the luckiest body hereabouts. Fancy my seeing the
Bogey-Beast all to myself; and making myself so free with it too! My goodness! I do feel that
uplifted—that GRAND!"—
So she went into her cottage and spent the evening chuckling over her good luck.
5
3 The Three Little Pigs
The story of The Three Little Pigs featured here has been adapted
from different sources and from childhood memory. The primary
sources are English Fairy Tales, retold by Flora Annie Steel (1922)
Once upon a time there was an old mother pig who had three little
pigs and not enough food to feed them. So when they were old
enough, she sent them out into the world to seek their fortunes.
The first little pig was very lazy. He didn't want to work at all and he
built his house out of straw. The second little pig worked a little bit
harder but he was somewhat lazy too and he built his house out of
sticks. Then, they sang and danced and played together the rest of the day.
The third little pig worked hard all day and built his house with bricks. It was a sturdy house
complete with a fine fireplace and chimney. It looked like it could withstand the strongest
winds.
The next day, a wolf happened to pass by the lane where the three little pigs lived; and he saw
the straw house, and he smelled the pig inside. He thought the pig would make a mighty fine
meal and his mouth began to water.
So he knocked on the door and said:
Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!
But the little pig saw the wolf's big paws through the keyhole, so he answered back:
No! No! No! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!
Then the wolf showed his teeth and said:
Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down.
So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house down! The wolf opened his jaws very wide
and bit down as hard as he could, but the first little pig escaped and ran away to hide with the
second little pig.
The wolf continued down the lane and he passed by the second house made of sticks; and he
saw the house, and he smelled the pigs inside, and his mouth began to water as he thought
about the fine dinner they would make.
So he knocked on the door and said:
Little pigs! Little pigs! Let me in! Let me in!
But the little pigs saw the wolf's pointy ears through the keyhole, so they answered back:
No! No! No! Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chin!
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So the wolf showed his teeth and said:
Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down!
So he huffed and he puffed and he blew the house down! The wolf
was greedy and he tried to catch both pigs at once, but he was too
greedy and got neither! His big jaws clamped down on nothing but
air and the two little pigs scrambled away as fast as their little
hooves would carry them.
The wolf chased them down the lane and he almost caught them.
But they made it to the brick house and slammed the door closed
before the wolf could catch them. The three little pigs they were
very frightened, they knew the wolf wanted to eat them. And that
was very, very true. The wolf hadn't eaten all day and he had
worked up a large appetite chasing the pigs around and now he could smell all three of them
inside and he knew that the three little pigs would make a lovely feast.
So the wolf knocked on the door and said:
Little pigs! Little pigs! Let me in! Let me in!
But the little pigs saw the wolf's narrow eyes through the keyhole, so they answered back:
No! No! No! Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chin!
So the wolf showed his teeth and said:
Then I'll huff and I'll puff
and I'll blow your house down.
Well! he huffed and he puffed. He puffed and he huffed. And he huffed, huffed, and he puffed,
puffed; but he could not blow the house down. At last, he was so out of breath that he couldn't
huff and he couldn't puff anymore. So he stopped to rest and thought a bit.
But this was too much. The wolf danced about with rage and swore he would come down the
chimney and eat up the little pig for his supper. But while he was climbing on to the roof the
little pig made up a blazing fire and put on a big pot full of water to boil. Then, just as the wolf
was coming down the chimney, the little piggy pulled off the lid, and plop! in fell the wolf into
the scalding water.
So the little piggy put on the cover again, boiled the wolf up, and the three little pigs ate him
for supper.
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4 The Lady of Stavoren
A Dutch Legend
If you take the ferry across the Zuider Zee to the northern province of Friesland, you will land
at a small town called Stavoren. Today it is little more than a ferry landing, a brief stop in the
journey north. You’d never guess this was once one of the great port cities of Europe.
Yet so it was, many centuries ago. And so it might be still, if not for the choice made by
a lady.
The fine harbor at Stavoren welcomed the ships of many countries, and many countries were
visited by the ships of Stavoren. So rich and proud became the city’s merchants, they fitted
their doors with handles and hinges of gold.
Among these merchants was a young widow, richest of the rich and proudest of the
proud. They called her the Lady of Stavoren.
The Lady would stop at nothing to show herself better than her fellow merchants. She
filled her palace with the most costly goods from wherever her ships made port. But her rivals
always found the means to copy her.
“I must show them once and for all that I am their better,” she said to herself. “Somehow,
I must get hold of the most precious thing in the world.”
One evening, the Lady attended a grand ball at the palace of another merchant. There
she met a rich and handsome sea captain who had just sailed into Stavoren. He asked her for
every dance.
At the end of the evening, the Captain kissed her hand. “My Lady, I was told you were
the wealthiest woman in Stavoren. But no one warned me you were also the most charming.”
From then on, the Lady and the Captain were seen everywhere, her arm in his. And
everywhere they went, people talked about what might come of it.
“She’ll marry him,” said one.
“She’ll send him away,” said another.
“She’ll keep him dangling,” said still another.
It was not long before the Captain knelt before her. “My Lady,
will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
“Gladly, dear Captain,” said the Lady. “But there is one
condition. As a wedding gift, you must bring me the most precious
thing in the world.”
“The most precious thing? What is that? And where do I find it?”
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“If I knew,” said the Lady gently, “I would have purchased it myself. I ask you to
discover it and bring it to me.”
“I will do so, dear Lady!” declared the Captain. “Until I return, please wear this ruby
ring as a token of my love.”
The next day, the Captain sailed from Stavoren in search of the most precious thing in
the world.
Months passed. Everyone in Stavoren knew of the Captain’s quest. Wherever the Lady
went, she heard people guessing what the most precious thing would be.
“A magnificent gown,” said one.
“A marvelous statue,” said another.
“A pearl as big as an egg,” said still another.
The Lady was delighted to be causing such a stir. “And how they will envy me,” she said
to herself, “when my Captain returns with his gift!”
At long last, the Captain’s ship was sighted entering the harbor. The people of Stavoren
streamed to the dock. When the Lady arrived, dressed in her finest, they made way.
The Captain’s ship was just docking. “My Lady,” he called, “I have brought what you
desired! The most precious thing in the world!”
“What is it, my Captain?” called back the Lady, barely able to hold in her excitement.
“I visited many ports in many lands,” the Captain said. “I saw many wonderful things.
None could I say was the most precious of all. But at last, in the city of Danzig, I came across
it. Then I laughed at myself! I should have known it from the first!”
“But what is it?” said the Lady impatiently.
“Wheat!” cried the Captain. “My ship is filled with wheat!”
“Wheat?” said the Lady. Her face grew white. Behind her, she heard murmurs from the
crowd, and laughing. “Did you say wheat?”
“Yes, dear Lady!” said the Captain joyously. “What could be more precious, more
valuable, than wheat? Without our daily bread, what good are all the treasures of the world?”
The Lady was silent for a moment, listening to the whispers and snickers of the crowd.
“And this wheat belongs to me, to do with as I like?”
“Yes, my love! It is my wedding gift to you!”
“Then,” said the Lady, “pour it into the harbor.”
“What?” Now the Captain’s own face was white.
“Pour it into the harbor! Every grain of it!”
Murmurs of horror and approval both rose behind her.
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“My Lady,” said the Captain, “please consider what you say. There is wheat enough here
to feed a city! If you have no use for it, then give it to the poor and hungry. After all, you too
may someday be in need.”
“I?” shrieked the Lady. “In need?”
She plucked from her finger the ruby ring the Captain had given her and held it high.
“This ring will return to my hand before I am ever in need.”
With all her might, she flung it far into the harbor.
The Captain watched as the ring hit the water and sank. Then he looked at the Lady on
the dock, her face red with rage.
He spoke not another word to her, but turned to his men.
“Cast off!”
When the ship reached the harbor mouth, the Captain had his men pour all the wheat
overboard. Then he sailed from the harbor, never to return.
The next day, the Lady held a grand feast for all the richest merchants of Stavoren. She
spared no expense, to show that she still had every cause for pride.
A huge roast fish was set before her for carving. As she was about to cut into it, the Lady
saw something glinting in the fish’s mouth. She pulled out the object and held it up.
The diners gasped. The Lady turned pale.
It was the ruby ring.
A few weeks later, fishermen found that a sand bar was building beneath the water at the
harbor’s mouth. The discarded wheat had sprouted and grown, and was catching the sand that
before had drifted freely.
Soon, the tall ships could not enter. The harbor was ruined, and with it went the fortunes
of the city. Many of the merchants lost everything.
Among them was the Lady of Stavoren.
In the tiny town of Stavoren today, the sand bar is still called “Lady’s Sand”—a reminder
how the Lady of Stavoren scorned the most precious thing in the world.
Friesland ~ FREEZ-lund
Stavoren ~ stah-VOR-en
Zuider Zee ~ ZI-der ZEE
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5 The Tale of Peter Rabbit
ONCE upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were— Flopsy, Mopsy,
Cotton-tail, and Peter.
They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank, underneath the root of a very big fir tree.
"NOW, my dears," said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, "you may go into the fields or down the
lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put
in a pie by Mrs. McGregor."
"NOW run along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out."
THEN old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, to the baker's. She bought a loaf of
brown bread and five currant buns.
FLOPSY, Mopsy, and Cottontail, who were good little bunnies,
went down the lane to gather blackberries;
BUT Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr.
McGregor's garden and squeezed under the gate!
FIRST he ate some lettuces and some French beans; and then he
ate some radishes;
AND then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley.
BUT round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet
but Mr. McGregor!
MR. McGREGOR was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up
and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, "Stop thief!"
PETER was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the
way back to the gate.
He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.
AFTER losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have got away
altogether if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large
buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.
PETER gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by some
friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement, and implored him to exert himself.
MR. McGREGOR came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter; but
Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him.
AND rushed into the toolshed, and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful thing to
hide in, if it had not had so much water in it.
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MR. McGREGOR was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the toolshed, perhaps hidden
underneath a flower-pot. He began to turn them over carefully, looking under each.
Presently Peter sneezed— "Kertyschoo!" Mr. McGregor was after him in no time,
AND tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The
window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went
back to his work.
PETER sat down to rest; he was out of breath and trembling with fright, and he had not the
least idea which way to go. Also he was very damp with sitting in that can.
After a time he began to wander about, going lippity— lippity—not very fast, and looking all
around.
HE found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little rabbit to
squeeze underneath.
An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her
family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pea in her
mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry.
THEN he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he became more and more
puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his water-cans. A white cat
was staring at some gold-fish; she sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail
twitched as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her; he had
heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny.
HE went back towards the tool-shed, but suddenly, quite close
to him, he heard the noise of a hoe—scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch,
scritch. Peter scuttered underneath the bushes. But presently, as
nothing happened, he came out, and climbed upon a
wheelbarrow, and peeped over. The first thing he saw was Mr.
McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned towards Peter,
and beyond him was the gate!
PETER got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow, and started
running as fast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some black-currant bushes.
Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped underneath
the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden.
MR. McGREGOR hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scare-crow to frighten the
blackbirds.
PETER never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree.
He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit-hole,
and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking; she wondered what he had done with his
clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight!
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I AM sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening.
His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter!
"One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time."
BUT Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries, for supper.
6 The Bremen Town Musicians

A certain man had a donkey, which had carried the corn-sacks to the
mill indefatigably for many a long year; but his strength was going,
and he was growing more and more unfit for work. Then his master
began to consider how he might best save his keep; but the donkey,
seeing that no good wind was blowing, ran away and set out on the
road to Bremen. "There," he thought, "I can surely be town-
musician." When he had walked some distance, he found a hound
lying on the road, gasping like one who had run till he was tired.
"What are you gasping so for, you big fellow?" asked the donkey.
"Ah," replied the hound, "as I am old, and daily grow weaker, and no longer can hunt, my
master wanted to kill me, so I took to flight; but now how am I to earn my bread?"
"I tell you what," said the donkey, "I am going to Bremen, and shall be town-musician there;
go with me and engage yourself also as a musician. I will play the lute, and you shall beat the
kettledrum."
The hound agreed, and on they went.
Before long they came to a cat, sitting on the path, with a face like three rainy days! "Now then,
old shaver, what has gone askew with you?" asked the donkey.
"Who can be merry when his neck is in danger?" answered the cat. "Because I am now getting
old, and my teeth are worn to stumps, and I prefer to sit by the fire and spin, rather than hunt
about after mice, my mistress wanted to drown me, so I ran away. But now good advice is
scarce. Where am I to go?"
"Go with us to Bremen. You understand night-music, you can be a town-musician."
The cat thought well of it, and went with them. After this the three fugitives came to a farm-
yard, where the cock was sitting upon the gate, crowing with all his might. "Your crow goes
through and through one," said the donkey. "What is the matter?"
"I have been foretelling fine weather, because it is the day on which Our Lady washes the
Christ-child's little shirts, and wants to dry them," said the cock; "but guests are coming for
Sunday, so the housewife has no pity, and has told the cook that she intends to eat me in the
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soup to-morrow, and this evening I am to have my head cut off. Now I am crowing at full pitch
while I can."
"Ah, but red-comb," said the donkey, "you had better come away with us. We are going to
Bremen; you can find something better than death everywhere: you have a good voice, and if
we make music together it must have some quality!"
The cock agreed to this plan, and all four went on together. They could not, however, reach the
city of Bremen in one day, and in the evening they came to a forest where they meant to pass
the night. The donkey and the hound laid themselves down under a large tree, the cat and the
cock settled themselves in the branches; but the cock flew right to the top, where he was most
safe. Before he went to sleep he looked round on all four sides, and thought he saw in the
distance a little spark burning; so he called out to his companions that there must be a house
not far off, for he saw a light. The donkey said, "If so, we had better get up and go on, for the
shelter here is bad." The hound thought that a few bones with some meat on would do him
good too!
So they made their way to the place where the light was, and soon saw it shine brighter and
grow larger, until they came to a well-lighted robber's house. The donkey, as the biggest, went
to the window and looked in.
"What do you see, my grey-horse?" asked the cock. "What do I see?" answered the donkey; "a
table covered with good things to eat and drink, and robbers sitting at it enjoying themselves."
"That would be the sort of thing for us," said the cock. "Yes, yes; ah, how I wish we were
there!" said the donkey.
Then the animals took counsel together how they should manage to drive away the robbers,
and at last they thought of a plan. The donkey was to place himself with his fore-feet upon the
window-ledge, the hound was to jump on the donkey's back, the cat was to climb upon the dog,
and lastly the cock was to fly up and perch upon the head of the cat.
When this was done, at a given signal, they began to perform their music together: the donkey
brayed, the hound barked, the cat mewed, and the cock crowed; then they burst through the
window into the room, so that the glass clattered! At this horrible din, the robbers sprang up,
thinking no otherwise than that a ghost had come in, and fled in a great fright out into the forest.
The four companions now sat down at the table, well content with what was left, and ate as if
they were going to fast for a month.
As soon as the four minstrels had done, they put out the light, and each sought for himself a
sleeping-place according to his nature and to what suited him. The donkey laid himself down
upon some straw in the yard, the hound behind the door, the cat upon the hearth near the warm
ashes, and the cock perched himself upon a beam of the roof; and being tired from their long
walk, they soon went to sleep.
When it was past midnight, and the robbers saw from afar that the light was no longer burning
in their house, and all appeared quiet, the captain said, "We ought not to have let ourselves be
frightened out of our wits;" and ordered one of them to go and examine the house.
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The messenger finding all still, went into the kitchen to light a candle, and, taking the glistening
fiery eyes of the cat for live coals, he held a lucifer-match to them to light it. But the cat did
not understand the joke, and flew in his face, spitting and scratching. He was dreadfully
frightened, and ran to the back-door, but the dog, who lay there sprang up and bit his leg; and
as he ran across the yard by the straw-heap, the donkey gave him a smart kick with its hind
foot. The cock, too, who had been awakened by the noise, and had become lively, cried down
from the beam, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
Then the robber ran back as fast as he could to his captain, and said, "Ah, there is a horrible
witch sitting in the house, who spat on me and scratched my face with her long claws; and by
the door stands a man with a knife, who stabbed me in the leg; and in the yard there lies a black
monster, who beat me with a wooden club; and above, upon the roof, sits the judge, who called
out, 'Bring the rogue here to me!' so I got away as well as I could."
After this the robbers did not trust themselves in the house again; but it suited the four
musicians of Bremen so well that they did not care to leave it any more. And the mouth of him
who last told this story is still warm.
7 The Little Match Girl

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and
evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there
went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet.
When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good
of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto
worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she
scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by
dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he
ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have
children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red
and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of
them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given
her a single farthing.
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but
of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were
gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes,
of that she thought.
15
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated
herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew
colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and
could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home
it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even
though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of
comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and
warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm,
bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed
really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished
brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed
so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the
small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in
her hand.
She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall,
there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table
was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast
goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still
more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor
with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out
and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now
there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more
decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.
Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as
she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her
hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher
and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had
loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to
God.
She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the
old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.
"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match
burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the
magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the
wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches
gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the
grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew
16
in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor
anxiety--they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling
mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and
stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to
warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had
seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on
the joys of a new year.
8 Father Frost
There was once upon a time a peasant-woman who had a daughter
and a step-daughter. The daughter had her own way in everything,
and whatever she did was right in her mother's eyes; but the poor
step-daughter had a hard time. Let her do what she would, she was
always blamed, and got small thanks for all the trouble she took;
nothing was right, everything wrong; and yet, if the truth were known,
the girl was worth her weight in gold--she was so unselfish and good-
hearted. But her step-mother did not like her, and the poor girl's days
were spent in weeping; for it was impossible to live peacefully with
the woman. The wicked shrew was determined to get rid of the girl
by fair means or foul, and kept saying to her father: 'Send her away,
old man; send her away--anywhere so that my eyes sha'n't be plagued
any longer by the sight of her, or my ears tormented by the sound of her voice. Send her out into the
fields, and let the cutting frost do for her.'
In vain did the poor old father weep and implore her pity; she was firm, and he dared not
gainsay her. So he placed his daughter in a sledge, not even daring to give her a horse-cloth to
keep herself warm with, and drove her out on to the bare, open fields, where he kissed her and
left her, driving home as fast as he could, that he might not witness her miserable death.
Deserted by her father, the poor girl sat down under a fir-tree at the edge of the forest and began
to weep silently. Suddenly she heard a faint sound: it was King Frost springing from tree to
tree, and cracking his fingers as he went. At length he reached the fir-tree beneath which she
was sitting, and with a crisp crackling sound he alighted beside her, and looked at her lovely
face.
'Well, maiden,' he snapped out, 'do you know who I am? I am King Frost, king of the red-
noses.'
'All hail to you, great King!' answered the girl, in a gentle, trembling voice. 'Have you come to
take me?'
'Are you warm, maiden?' he replied.
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'Quite warm, King Frost,' she answered, though she shivered as she spoke.
Then King Frost stooped down, and bent over the girl, and the crackling sound grew louder,
and the air seemed to be full of knives and darts; and again he asked:
'Maiden, are you warm? Are you warm, you beautiful girl?'
And though her breath was almost frozen on her lips, she whispered gently, 'Quite warm, King
Frost.'
Then King Frost gnashed his teeth, and cracked his fingers, and his eyes sparkled, and the
crackling, crisp sound was louder than ever, and for the last time he asked her:
'Maiden, are you still warm? Are you still warm, little love?'
And the poor girl was so stiff and numb that she could just gasp, 'Still warm, O King!'
Now her gentle, courteous words and her uncomplaining ways touched King Frost, and he had
pity on her, and he wrapped her up in furs, and covered her with blankets, and he fetched a
great box, in which were beautiful jewels and a rich robe embroidered in gold and silver. And
she put it on, and looked more lovely than ever, and King Frost stepped with her into his sledge,
with six white horses.
In the meantime the wicked step-mother was waiting at home for news of the girl's death, and
preparing pancakes for the funeral feast. And she said to her husband: 'Old man, you had better
go out into the fields and find your daughter's body and bury her.' Just as the old man was
leaving the house the little dog under the table began to bark, saying:
'YOUR daughter shall live to be your delight; HER daughter shall die this very night.'
'Hold your tongue, you foolish beast!' scolded the woman. 'There's a pancake for you, but you
must say:
"HER daughter shall have much silver and gold; HIS daughter is frozen quite stiff and cold." '
But the doggie ate up the pancake and barked, saying:
'His daughter shall wear a crown on her head; Her daughter shall die unwooed, unwed.'
Then the old woman tried to coax the doggie with more pancakes and to terrify it with blows,
but he barked on, always repeating the same words. And suddenly the door creaked and flew
open, and a great heavy chest was pushed in, and behind it came the step-daughter, radiant and
beautiful, in a dress all glittering with silver and gold. For a moment the step-mother's eyes
were dazzled. Then she called to her husband: 'Old man, yoke the horses at once into the sledge,
and take my daughter to the same field and leave her on the same spot exactly; 'and so the old
man took the girl and left her beneath the same tree where he had parted from his daughter. In
a few minutes King Frost came past, and, looking at the girl, he said:
'Are you warm, maiden?'
'What a blind old fool you must be to ask such a question!' she answered angrily. 'Can't you see
that my hands and feet are nearly frozen?'
18
Then King Frost sprang to and fro in front of her, questioning her, and getting only rude, rough
words in reply, till at last he got very angry, and cracked his fingers, and gnashed his teeth, and
froze her to death.
But in the hut her mother was waiting for her return, and as she grew impatient she said to her
husband: 'Get out the horses, old man, to go and fetch her home; but see that you are careful
not to upset the sledge and lose the chest.'
But the doggie beneath the table began to bark, saying:
'Your daughter is frozen quite stiff and cold, And shall never have a chest full of gold.'
'Don't tell such wicked lies!' scolded the woman. 'There's a cake for you; now say:
"HER daughter shall marry a mighty King."
At that moment the door flew open, and she rushed out to meet her daughter, and as she took
her frozen body in her arms she too was chilled to death.
9 Quackling
Once there was a very small duck with a very loud quack. So they called
him Quackling.
Now, Quackling was clever and he worked hard, so he saved up a good
deal of money. In fact, he saved up so much that the King himself came
to borrow some.
Quackling was proud to loan his money to the King. But a year went by, then two, then three,
and the King never paid him back.
“I’ve waited long enough,” said Quackling. So he took a sack for the money, and he started for
the castle, calling,
“Quack! Quack! Quack!
I want my money back!”
Before long, he came upon a ladder leaning against a wall.
“Where are you going, Quackling?” said Ladder.
“To the King for my money,” said Quackling.
“To the King!” said Ladder. “How wonderful! Will you take me with you?”
“Why not?” said Quackling. “One can never have too many friends.” And he called out,
Ladder into sack!”
19
Quick as you can blink, Ladder was in the sack. Then Quackling walked on, calling,
Not much later, he came upon a river flowing through a wood.
“Where are you going, Quackling?” said River.
“To the King!” said River. “How splendid! Will you take me with you?”
River into sack!”
Quick as you can wink, River was in the sack. Then Quackling walked on, calling,
In a little while, he came upon a beehive hanging from a tree.
“Where are you going, Quackling?” said Beehive.
“To the King!” said Beehive. “How marvelous! Will you take me with you?”
Now, Quackling’s sack was getting full, but he thought there might be just enough room.
Beehive into sack!”
Quick as you can think, Beehive was in the sack. Then Quackling walked on, calling,
Soon after, Quackling arrived at the King’s castle. He marched right up to the guards and told
them, “I’ve come for my money!”
The guards went inside and told the prime minister. The prime minister told the King.
“Who does that Quackling think he is?” said the King. “Never mind. Just put him in the pit!”
So they put Quackling in the pit and left him there.
“Help!” cried Quackling. “I’ll never get out!”
Then he remembered Ladder. So he called out,
20
Ladder out of sack!”
Quick as you can blink, Ladder was out of the sack. Ladder leaned against the side of the pit,
and Quackling climbed out. Then Quackling stood there, calling,
“How did that Quackling get out of the pit?” said the King. “Never mind. Just put him in the
pot!”
So they put Quackling in the pot and set it on the fire.
“Help!” cried Quackling. “I’m in a stew!”
Then he remembered River. So he called out,
River out of sack!”
Quick as you can wink, River was out of the sack. River put out the fire and flowed away. Then
Quackling got out, calling,
“How did that Quackling get out of the pot?” said the King. “Never mind. Just bring him here,
and I’ll put him in his place—for good!”
So they brought Quackling to the King. The King tried to grab him.
“Help!” cried Quackling. “This is the end!”
Then he remembered Beehive. So he called out,
Beehive out of sack!”
Quick as you can think, Beehive was out of the sack. The bees rushed from the hive and started
to sting the King.
“Help!” cried the King. He fled from the castle, and the bees followed. They chased him all the
way to— Well, no one knows where, for they never saw him again.
“Hooray!” cried the people of the castle, and the prime minister said, “We never liked that King
anyway.”
So they put Quackling on the throne and gave him a crown.
“Will you be our King?” said the guards.
“Why not?” said Quackling. “One can never have too many friends.”
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10 The Baker’s Dozen
In the Dutch colonial town later known as Albany, New
York, there lived a baker, Van Amsterdam, who was as
honest as he could be. Each morning, he checked and
balanced his scales, and he took great care to give his
customers exactly what they paid for—not more and not
less.
Van Amsterdam’s shop was always busy, because people trusted him, and because he was a
good baker as well. And never was the shop busier than in the days before December 6, when
the Dutch celebrate Saint Nicholas Day.
At that time of year, people flocked to the baker’s shop to buy his fine Saint Nicholas cookies.
Made of gingerbread, iced in red and white, they looked just like Saint Nicholas as the Dutch
know him—tall and thin, with a high, red bishop’s cap, and a long, red bishop’s cloak.
One Saint Nicholas Day morning, the baker was just ready for business, when the door of his
shop flew open. In walked an old woman, wrapped in a long black shawl.
“I have come for a dozen of your Saint Nicholas cookies.”
Taking a tray, Van Amsterdam counted out twelve cookies. He started to wrap them, but the
woman reached out and stopped him.
“I asked for a dozen. You have given me only twelve.”
“Madam,” said the baker, “everyone knows that a dozen is twelve.”
“But I say a dozen is thirteen,” said the woman. “Give me one more.”
Van Amsterdam was not a man to bear foolishness. “Madam, my customers get exactly what
they pay for—not more and not less.”
“Then you may keep the cookies.”
The woman turned to go, but stopped at the door.
“Van Amsterdam! However honest you may be, your heart is small and your fist is tight. Fall
again, mount again, learn how to count again!”
Then she was gone.
From that day, everything went wrong in Van Amsterdam’s bakery. His bread rose too high or
not at all. His pies were sour or too sweet. His cakes crumbled or were chewy. His cookies
were burnt or doughy.
His customers soon noticed the difference. Before long, most of them were going to other
bakers.
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“That old woman has bewitched me,” said the baker to himself. “Is this how my honesty is
rewarded?”
A year passed. The baker grew poorer and poorer. Since he sold little, he baked little, and his
shelves were nearly bare. His last few customers slipped away.
Finally, on the day before Saint Nicholas Day, not one customer came to Van Amsterdam’s
shop. At day’s end, the baker sat alone, staring at his unsold Saint Nicholas cookies.
“I wish Saint Nicholas could help me now,” he said. Then he closed his shop and went sadly
to bed.
That night, the baker had a dream. He was a boy again, one in a crowd of happy children. And
there in the midst of them was Saint Nicholas himself.
The bishop’s white horse stood beside him, its baskets filled with gifts. Nicholas pulled out one
gift after another, and handed them to the children. But Van Amsterdam noticed something
strange. No matter how many presents Nicholas passed out, there were always more to give.
In fact, the more he took from the baskets, the more they seemed to hold.
Then Nicholas handed a gift to Van Amsterdam. It was one of the baker’s own Saint Nicholas
cookies! Van Amsterdam looked up to thank him, but it was no longer Saint Nicholas standing
there.
Smiling down at him was the old woman with the long black shawl.
Van Amsterdam awoke with a start. Moonlight shone through the half‑closed shutters as he lay
there, thinking.
“I always give my customers exactly what they pay for,” he said, “not more and not less. But
why not give more?”
The next morning, Saint Nicholas Day, the baker rose early. He mixed his gingerbread dough
and rolled it out. He molded the shapes and baked them. He iced them in red and white to look
just like Saint Nicholas. And the cookies were as fine as any he had made.
Van Amsterdam had just finished, when the door flew open. In walked the old woman with the
long black shawl.
“I have come for a dozen of your Saint Nicholas cookies.”
In great excitement, Van Amsterdam counted out twelve cookies—and one more.
“In this shop,” he said, “from now on, a dozen is thirteen.”
“You have learned to count well,” said the woman. “You will surely be rewarded.”
She paid for the cookies and started out. But as the door swung shut, the baker’s eyes seemed
to play a trick on him. He thought he glimpsed the tail end of a long red cloak.
***
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As the old woman foretold, Van Amsterdam was rewarded. When people heard he counted
thirteen as a dozen, he had more customers than ever.
In fact, Van Amsterdam grew so wealthy that the other bakers in town began doing the same.
From there, the practice spread to other towns, and at last through all the American colonies.
And this, they say, is how thirteen became the “baker’s dozen”—a custom common for over a
century, and alive in some places to this day.
11 The Boy Who Drew Cats

A Tale of Japan
Once there was a boy who loved to draw. His name was Joji.
Joji grew up on a farm with lots of brothers and sisters. The
others were a big help to their father and mother. But not Joji!
He did nothing for hours but draw in the dirt with a stick. And
what Joji drew was just one thing.
Cats.
Cats, cats, and more cats. Small cats, big cats, thin cats, fat cats. Cats, cats, cats, cats, cats.
“Joji,” his father told him, “you must stop drawing all those cats! How will you ever be a
farmer?”
“I’m sorry, Father. I’ll try to stop.”
And he did try. But whenever Joji saw one of the farm cats go by, he forgot about his chores
and drew another cat.
“Joji will never make a farmer,” said the farmer sadly to his wife.
“Maybe he could be a priest,” she told him. “Why don’t you take him to the temple?”
So the farmer brought Joji to the priest at the village temple. The priest said, “I will gladly
teach him.”
From then on, Joji lived at the temple. The priest gave him lessons in reading and writing. Joji
had his own box of writing tools, with a brush and an ink stick and a stone.
Joji loved to make the ink. He poured water in the hollow of the stone. He dipped the ink stick
in the water. Then he rubbed the stick on the stone. And there was the ink for his brush!
Now, the other students worked hard at their writing. But not Joji! With his brush and rice
paper, he did nothing for hours but draw. And what Joji drew was just one thing.
Cats.
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“Joji,” the priest told him, “you must stop drawing all those cats! How will you ever be a
priest?”
“I’m sorry, honorable sir. I’ll try to stop.”
And he did try. But whenever Joji saw one of the temple cats go by, he forgot about his writing
and drew another cat.
That was bad enough. Then Joji started drawing on the folding screens of the temple. Soon
there were cats on all the rice-paper panels. They were everywhere!
“Joji, you’ll never make a priest,” the priest told him sadly. “You’ll just have to go home.”
Joji went to his room and packed his things. But he was afraid to go home. He knew his father
would be angry.
Then he remembered another temple in a village nearby. “Maybe I can stay with the priest
there.”
Joji started out walking. It was already night when he got to the other village.
He climbed the steps to the temple and knocked. There was no answer. He opened the heavy
door. It was all dark inside.
“That’s strange,” said Joji. “Why isn’t anyone here?”
He lit a lamp by the door. Then he saw something that made him clap. All around the big room
were folding screens with empty rice-paper panels.
Joji got out his writing box and made some ink. Then he dipped in his brush and started to
draw. And what Joji drew was just one thing.
Cats.
The screen he drew on last was almost as long as the room. Joji covered it with one gigantic
cat—the biggest and most beautiful cat he had ever drawn.
Now Joji was tired. He started to lie down. But something about the big room bothered him.
“I’ll find someplace smaller.”
He found a cozy closet and settled inside. Then he slid shut the panel door and went to sleep.
Late that night, Joji awoke in fright.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
It sounded like a large, fierce animal in the temple! Now he knew why no one was there. He
wished he wasn’t there either!
He heard the thing sniff around the big room. It halted right in front of the closet. Then all at
once . . .
Yowl!
25
There was a sound of struggling, and a roar of surprise and pain. Then a huge thud that shook
the floor.
Then a soft padding sound. Then silence.
Joji lay trembling in the dark. He stayed there for hours, afraid to look out of the closet.
At last, daylight showed at the edge of the door. Joji carefully slid the door open and peered
out.
In the middle of the room lay a monster rat—a rat as big as a cow! It lay dead, as if something
had smashed it to the floor.
Joji looked around the room. No one and nothing else was there—just the screens with the cats.
Then Joji looked again at the one gigantic cat.
“Didn’t I draw the head to the left and the tail to the right?”
Yes, he was sure of it. But now the cat faced the other way—as if it had come down off the
screen and then gone back up.
“The cat!” said Joji. His eyes grew wide. Then he pressed his palms together and bowed to the
screen.
“Thank you, honorable cat. You have saved me. For as long as I live, no one will stop me from
drawing cats.”
***
When the villagers learned that the monster rat was dead, Joji became a hero. The village priest
let him live in the temple as long as he liked.
But Joji did not become a priest. And he did not become a farmer.
He became an artist. A great artist. An artist honored through all the country. An artist who
drew just one thing.
Cats!
12 How Frog Went to Heaven

A Tale of Angola
There was a young man named Kimana. He wanted to marry the Sky Maiden. He wrote a letter
to her father, the Sun Chief.
Kimana went to Rabbit. “Will you take this letter?”
26
Rabbit said, “I cannot go to Heaven.”
Kimana went to Antelope. “Will you take this letter?”
Antelope said, “I cannot go to Heaven.”
Kimana went to Hawk. “Will you take this letter?”
Hawk said, “I can go halfway. But I cannot go to
Heaven.”
Then Frog came to Kimana. “Why do you not take the
letter yourself?”
Kimana said, “This I cannot do.”
Frog said, “Then I will take it for you.”
Kimana laughed. “Can a frog take a letter to Heaven?”
Frog said, “Whatever it is, I can do it. But only if I try.”
Now, Frog lived by a well. Every day, the girls who served the Sun Chief came to this
well. They climbed down from Heaven on a web made by Spider. Then they filled their water
jugs and went home.
Frog put the letter in his mouth and hid in the well. The girls from Heaven came for
water, singing their song.
Good day to you, my sister.
Good day to you.
They lowered their jugs into the well, and Frog jumped into one. The girls did not see.
Then the girls climbed back up the web of Spider. They went into the house of the Sun
Chief and left the jugs in a room.
Frog was alone. He jumped out of the jug and spit the letter out on a bench. Then he hid
in a corner.
The Sun Chief came for a drink of water. He saw the letter and opened it. He read, “I,
Kimana, a man of earth, wish to marry the Sky Maiden, your daughter.”
The Sun Chief said, “How can this be?”
He went to the girls who fetched water. “Did you bring this letter?”
The girls said, “We did not.”
He went to his wife, the Moon Lady, and read it to her. “What should we do?”
The Moon Lady said, “Don’t ask me! Ask your daughter!”
He went to his daughter. The Sky Maiden said, “Let us see if he can bring a wedding
gift.”
27
So the Sun Chief wrote a letter and set it on the bench. Then he went away.
Frog came out and put the letter in his mouth. Then he climbed into an empty jug.
The next day, the girls took the jugs and climbed down to earth, singing their song.
Good day to you.
They lowered their jugs into the well, and Frog jumped out. The girls did not see.
Then the girls went back to Heaven.
Frog took the letter to Kimana, and Kimana read it. “You may marry my daughter if you
bring a purse of money.”
Frog said, “Then I will bring it for you.”
Kimana laughed. “You took a letter to Heaven. But can you bring a purse of money?”
Kimana gave Frog a purse of money. Frog took hold of it with his mouth and carried it
to the well. He climbed in and waited.
The girls from Heaven came to the well.
Good day to you.
Frog got into one of the jugs. The girls returned to Heaven and left him in the room.
Frog set the money on the bench. Then he hid.
The Sun Chief came and found the purse. “How can this be?”
He went to the girls. “Did you bring this money?”
The girls said, “We did not.”
He went to his wife. The Moon Lady said, “Don’t ask me! Ask your daughter!”
He went to his daughter. The Sky Maiden said, “Let us see if he can come fetch me.”
So the Sun Chief wrote a letter and left it on the bench.
Frog put the letter in his mouth and climbed into an empty jug. The next day, the girls
carried him to earth.
Good day to you.
He jumped back into the well, and the girls went back to Heaven.
28
Frog brought the letter to Kimana, and Kimana read it. “You may marry my daughter if
you come and fetch her.”
Frog said, “Then I will fetch her for you.”
Kimana laughed. “You took a letter to Heaven. You brought a purse of money. But can
you fetch a bride?”
Frog climbed back into the well. The girls came with their jugs.
Good day to you.
They carried him to Heaven.
Frog jumped out. He spit in all the jugs of water. Ptui. Ptui. Ptui. Then he hid in an empty
jug.
The people of the house came and drank the water. They all got sick.
The Sun Chief called for the spirit doctor. The doctor told him, “You promised your
daughter to a man of earth, but she has not gone. He has sent an evil spirit with a sickness. The
evil spirit is in the shape of a frog.”
The Sun Chief went to his wife. The Moon Lady said, “Don’t ask me! Ask your
daughter!”
He went to his daughter. The Sky Maiden said, “I will go.”
The next day, the Sky Maiden went with the girls down to the well.
Good day to you.
The girls filled their jugs, and Frog jumped out. Then the girls left the Sky Maiden and
went home.
Frog jumped out of the well. “I will lead you to your husband.”
The Sky Maiden laughed. “Can a frog lead a woman?”
Frog said, “I took a letter to Heaven. I brought a purse of money. I fetched a bride.
Whatever it was, I could do it. But only since I tried.”
The Sky Maiden said, “Then it is you I will marry.”
She took Frog back to Heaven and married him. They lived on and on.
And Kimana is still waiting for his bride.
29
13 The Calabash Kids
A Tale of Tanzania
Once there was a woman named Shindo, who lived in a village at the foot of a snow-capped
mountain. Her husband had died, and she had no children, so she was very lonely. And she was
always tired too, for she had no one to help with the chores.
All on her own, she cleaned the hut and yard, tended the chickens, washed her clothes in
the river, carried water, cut firewood, and cooked her solitary meals.
At the end of each day, Shindo gazed up at the snowy peak.
“Great Mountain Spirit!” she would pray. “My work is too hard. Send me help!”
One day, Shindo was weeding her small field by the river, where she grew vegetables
and bananas and gourds. Suddenly, a noble chieftain appeared beside her.
“I am a messenger from the Great Mountain Spirit,” he told the astonished woman, and
he handed her some gourd seeds. “Plant these carefully. They are the answer to your prayers.”
Then the chieftain vanished.
Shindo wondered, “What help could I get from a handful of seeds?” Still, she planted
and tended them as carefully as she could.
She was amazed at how quickly they grew. In just a week, long vines trailed over the
ground, and ripe gourds hung from them.
Shindo brought the gourds home, sliced off the tops, and scooped out the pulp. Then she
laid the gourds on the rafters of her hut to dry. When they hardened, she could sell them at the
market as calabashes, to be made into bowls and jugs.
One fine gourd Shindo set by the cook fire. This one she wanted to use herself, and she
hoped it would dry faster.
The next morning, Shindo went off again to tend her field. But meanwhile, back in the
hut, the gourds began to change. They sprouted heads, then arms, then legs.
Soon, they were not gourds at all. They were children!
30
One boy lay by the fire, where Shindo had put the fine gourd. The other children called
to him from the rafters.
“Ki-te-te, come help us!
We’ll work for our mother.
Come help us, Ki-te-te,
Our favorite brother!”
Kitete helped his brothers and sisters down from
the rafters. Then the children ran through the hut and
yard, singing and playing.
All joined in but Kitete. Drying by the fire had made the boy slow-witted. So he just sat
there, smiling widely.
After a while, the other children started on the chores. They quickly cleaned the hut and
yard, fed the chickens, washed the clothes, carried water, cut firewood, and cooked a meal for
Shindo to eat when she returned.
When the work was done, Kitete helped the others climb back on the rafters. Then they
all turned again into gourds.
That afternoon, as Shindo returned home, the other women of the village called to her.
“Who were those children in your yard today?” they asked. “Where did they come from?
Why were they doing your chores?”
“What children? Are you all making fun of me?” said Shindo, angrily.
But when she reached her hut, she was astounded. The work was done, and even her
meal was ready! She could not imagine who had helped her.
The same thing happened the next day. As soon as Shindo had gone off, the gourds
turned into children, and the ones on the rafters called out,
Then they played for a while, did all the chores, climbed back to the rafters, and turned
again into gourds.
Once more, Shindo was amazed to see the work all done. But this time, she decided to
find out who were her helpers.
The next morning, Shindo pretended to leave, but she hid beside the door of the hut and
peeked in. And so she saw the gourds turn into children, and heard the ones on the rafters call
out,
31
As the children rushed out the door, they nearly ran into Shindo. She was too astonished
to speak, and so were the children. But after a moment, they went on with their playing, and
then with their chores.
When they were done, they started to climb back to the rafters.
“No, no!” cried Shindo. “You must not change back into gourds! You will be the children
I never had, and I will love you and care for you.”
So Shindo kept the children as her own. She was no longer lonely. And the children were
so helpful, she soon became rich, with many fields of vegetables and bananas, and flocks of
sheep and goats.
That is, all were helpful but Kitete, who stayed by the fire with his simple-minded smile.
Most of the time, Shindo didn’t mind. In fact, Kitete was really her favorite, because he
was like a sweet baby. But sometimes, when she was tired or unhappy about something else,
she would get annoyed at him.
“You useless child!” she would say. “Why can’t you be smart like your brothers and
sisters, and work as hard as they do?”
Kitete would only grin back at her.
One day, Shindo was out in the yard, cutting vegetables for a stew. As she carried the
pot from the bright sunlight into the hut, she tripped over Kitete. She fell, and the clay pot
shattered. Vegetables and water streamed everywhere.
“Stupid boy!” yelled Shindo. “Haven’t I told you to stay out of my way? But what can I
expect? You’re not a real child at all. You’re nothing but a calabash!”
The very next moment, she gave a scream. Kitete was no longer there, and in his place
was a gourd.
“What have I done?” cried Shindo, as the children crowded into the hut. “I didn’t mean
what I said! You’re not a calabash, you’re my own darling son. Oh, children, please do
something!”
The children looked at each other. Then over each other they climbed, scampering up to
the rafters. When the last child had been helped up by Shindo, they called out one last time,
32
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, the gourd began to change. It
sprouted a head, then arms, then legs. At last, it was not a gourd at all. It was—
Kitete!
Shindo learned her lesson. Ever after, she was very careful what she called her children.
And so they gave her comfort and happiness, all the rest of her days.
Kitete ~ Kee-TAY-tay
Shindo ~ SHEEN-do or SHEE-’n-do
14 Too-too-moo and the Giant

A Tale of Indonesia
Once on the island of Java there was a little girl named Too-too-moo. She lived with her Mama
in a one-room house in a forest. They were poor but they were happy.
Or they would have been happy, if not for a terrible giant who came every day.
Each morning, when Too-too-moo woke up, she fastened
her hair in a knot with her long hairpin. Then she hurried into the
woods to help Mama gather firewood and herbs to sell at the
village market.
When that was done, Mama cooked a small pot of plain rice
and shared it with Too-too-moo for breakfast. She also cooked a
huge pot of sweet porridge. She made it from tasty rice flour, fragrant coconut milk, and lots
of sugar.
But not even the tiniest bit of the porridge was for Too-too-moo and her Mama. It was
all for the giant. Mama knew, if the giant came and did not find a full pot of porridge, he would
eat Too-too-moo instead!
Then Mama left for the market, while Too-too-moo did the housework. She shook out
their sleeping mat, swept the floor, and washed their few dishes. Then she went outside to play.
Soon she heard the giant’s terrible footsteps.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Too-too-moo ran into the house, picked up the covered pot of porridge, placed it outside
on the doorstep, and shut and locked the door. Then she crouched and trembled in a corner.
The giant stamped up to the house. With one huge finger, he knocked on the door—
Tock, tock, tock. Then he called,
33
“Too-too-moo!
Where are you?”
And Too-too-moo answered, “In the house.”
“And where is your Mama?”
“At the market.”
“And where is my PORRIDGE?”
“In the pot!”
The giant took off the cover, picked up the pot, and swallowed the porridge in one big
gulp. Then he threw down the pot and stamped back through the forest.
This happened every day.
When Mama returned in the evening, she brought food that she had bought with the
money earned at the market. But since they had to feed the giant, there was never enough for
themselves.
One day, Mama did not sell as much as usual. When she came home, she had only
enough food for the giant. She and Too-too-moo had to go hungry.
The next day was the same. And so was the day after that.
Too-too-moo and her Mama were starving.
On the fourth morning, Too-too-moo got up, fastened her hair with her long hairpin, and
helped Mama gather firewood and herbs. Then Mama cooked the porridge for the giant and
left for the market.
The sweet smell of the porridge filled the little house. Too-too-moo was so hungry, she
couldn’t stand it.
“I’ll eat just one spoonful,” she said to herself. “The giant will never know.”
Too-too-moo uncovered the pot and ate one spoonful. But she was too hungry to stop!
Before she knew what she was doing, a quarter of the porridge was gone.
Then she heard the giant’s terrible footsteps.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Too-too-moo quickly covered the pot, placed it outside on the doorstep, and shut and
locked the door. Then she crouched and trembled in a corner.
The giant stamped up to the house. With one huge finger, he knocked on the door—
Tock, tock, tock. Then he called,
“Too-too-moo!
Where are you?”
34
And Too-too-moo answered, “In the house.”
“And where is your Mama?”
“At the market.”
“And where is my PORRIDGE?”
“In the pot!”
The giant took off the cover, picked up the pot, stopped, and looked.
“This pot is not full!” bellowed the giant. He threw it down and called again,
“Too-too-moo!
Where are YOU?”
Too-too-moo did not answer.
With one blow of his fist, the giant knocked down the door. He reached in his long arm
and felt all around till he found Too-too-moo. Then he pulled her from the house, tossed her in
his mouth, and swallowed her in one big gulp.
Too-too-moo tumbled into the giant’s stomach. “Please let me out!” she shouted.
But the giant didn’t listen as he turned and stamped back through the forest.
Too-too-moo cried and shook with fear. Then all of a sudden, she remembered her long
hairpin.
Quickly she pulled it from her hair. With both hands and all her strength, Too-too-moo
stuck it into the giant.
“YOW!” howled the giant.
Too-too-moo stuck him again.
“OUCH! YOW!” The giant danced about, but there was nothing he could do. “TOO-
TOO-MOO, STOP!”
But Too-too-moo did not stop. She stuck the giant again and again.
The bellowing giant raced through the woods. Mad with pain, he did not look where he
was going. He tripped on a root and cracked his head on a rock.
The giant was dead!
But Too-too-moo was still trapped inside.
At that moment, Mama was on her way home. She had been lucky that day, and had
quickly sold all she had carried to market. So she had bought rice and fish and vegetables, and
even roasted peanuts as a special treat for Too-too-moo.
But when she reached the house, she saw the porridge thrown down and the door
knocked in. She called,
35
“Too-too-moo!
Where are you?”
There was no answer.
Mama grabbed a big cooking knife and ran along the trail of the giant’s footsteps, calling,
“Too-too-moo!
Where are YOU?”
Still no answer.
Then she came to where the giant lay dead. But her daughter was nowhere to be seen, so
she called one last time,
“TOO-TOO-MOO!
WHERE ARE YOU?”
And Too-too-moo answered, “IN THE GIANT!”
With both hands and all her strength, Mama slit open the giant’s side.
And out climbed—
Too-too-moo!
From that time on, Too-too-moo and her Mama were happy. There was no more giant to
bother them. They always had enough to eat. And they had sweet porridge for breakfast, every
single day.
15 The Wicked Girl

A Tale of Turkey
There was once a merchant who set out with his wife on a pilgrimage to Mecca. Their daughter,
though, they left at home, with an Arab slave girl to keep her company.
One evening quite late, the merchant’s daughter and the Arab girl were singing and
laughing and dancing about in the upstairs apartment. By accident, the Arab girl knocked over
the oil lamp, leaving the young ladies in darkness.
“What should we do?” said the merchant’s daughter.
“It’s too late to rouse the servants.”
“I’ll go out and find a light,” said the Arab girl.
“But we’re locked in!” said the merchant’s daughter.
“The window’s open,” said the Arab girl.
36
So they knotted some bed sheets together and lowered them from the window. Then the
Arab girl took a basket and climbed down.
She walked down the street till she came to a restaurant still open. The customers had all
gone, but a handsome young man was in the kitchen, cleaning up and preparing for the next
day. On the table were dishes piled high with kebabs, dolma, pilaf, and baklava.
“May I come in?” said the Arab girl prettily.
The young man, who owned the restaurant, cast an eye on the lovely young lady. “Please
sit down!” he said.
As the two of them chatted, the young man moved closer and closer to the Arab girl. She
was almost in reach when she asked him, “What’s in those huge crocks?”
“One has olive oil, one has clarified butter, and one has honey.”
“Honey?” she said. “What’s that?”
“Surely you’ve had honey before!”
“Never! Please give me a taste.”
So the young man took off the lid and leaned into the crock to spoon some out. The Arab
girl came up behind and lifted his feet, so he slid head first into the honey. Then she quickly
loaded her basket with dishes of food, grabbed an oil lamp, and ran off.
The young man came out of the honey dripping and sputtering. “Ooh, that Arab girl! If
I ever catch her, I’ll drink her blood!”
The next night, the Arab girl was again dancing about with the merchant’s daughter, but
she was wondering about the restaurant owner. So she knocked over the lamp a second time.
“I’ll have to go out again,” she said.
They lowered the bed sheets, and the Arab girl climbed down with her basket. When she
reached the restaurant, she again found the young man alone.
“How dare you come back!” he demanded. “Do you know what I’ll do to you now?”
“Kiss me?” she asked.
“Well, well!” said the young man, with a smile. “What a fine idea!” He came close to
embrace her.
“Not yet,” she said. “First we must eat and drink.”
So they ate and drank, and the Arab girl kept pouring him more and more wine, and he
kept drinking it, till his head dropped down and rested on the table. She found some rope, tied
him up, and gagged him. Then she took more dishes of food and a lamp and ran off.
His customers found him the next morning and set him free. “Ooh, that Arab girl! If I
ever catch her, I’ll drink her blood!”
37
Later that same day, the young man disguised himself as an old flower peddler, with
ragged clothes and a long white beard. Then he walked up and down the streets, calling, “Roses
for sale! Roses for sale!”
When he came by the merchant’s house, he spotted the Arab girl looking out the upstairs
window. “I have her now!” he muttered.
Meanwhile, the Arab girl was telling the merchant’s daughter, “There’s that handsome
restaurant owner. I wonder what he’s up to.” She called down to him, “We would like some
roses.”
“Then please come to the door,” said the young man, in an old man’s voice.
“We’re locked in,” she said. “But you can climb to the window.”
She lowered the bed sheets, and the young man started up. He was just a few feet away
when the Arab girl took a knife and sliced through the top sheet. Roses flew everywhere as the
young man tumbled to the ground.
While a crowd gathered around him, the young man painfully struggled to his feet. “Ooh,
that Arab girl! If I ever catch her, I’ll drink her blood!”
Not long after that, the merchant returned with his wife from their pilgrimage. To thank
the Arab slave girl for keeping his daughter good company, he asked, “What would you like
as a gift?”
“A doll made of rubber,” she told him. “It should be just my height and look just like me
and wear clothes just like mine. And when you shake it, it should say, ‘Yes, yes.’” So the
merchant had the doll made and gave it to her.
A few days later, the merchant spoke again to the Arab girl. “I’ve received a note from
a man who does not name himself. He wishes to buy you for an incredibly high price. But if
you object, I’ll refuse him.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, smiling.
The next morning, a messenger came with a carriage and drove the Arab girl to a house
a few streets away. She and her belongings were left alone in a room upstairs.
The Arab girl took her doll and stood it in the middle of the room. She poured red sherbet
into its hollow center, filling it with the sweet fruit drink. Then she hid in a closet.
Before long, the door flew open. There stood the young restaurant owner, a dagger in his
hand. He glared at the doll. “You wicked girl! I’ve caught you at last!”
Gripping it by the shoulder, he demanded, “Do you remember how you pushed me into
the honey?” He shook it back and forth.
“Yes, yes,” said the doll.
“And do you remember how you tied me up and gagged me?”
“Yes, yes.”
38
“And do you remember how you made me fall to the street?”
“Yes, yes.”
“You admit everything! Then prepare to die, for now I will drink your blood!”
He plunged the dagger into the doll, and red liquid spurted out. As the doll fell over, he
caught a few drops in his cupped hand, and raised them greedily to his lips.
“But what’s this? Her blood is so sweet! And if her blood is this sweet, how much
sweeter must be the rest of her! What have I done? I have killed the sweetest woman in the
world! Oh, if only I could bring her back to life, I would free her and marry her! But it’s too
late. All I can do now is end my own life!” He raised the dagger above his chest.
“Hey, dummy! I’m right here!”
The young man stared at the Arab girl.
“Darling!” he cried.
“Dearest!” she answered.
And they lived happily ever after.
16 The Gifts of Friday Eve

A Tale of Iran
Once in the royal city of Isfahan, there was an old woodcutter who lived alone with his
young daughter. Every day, the woodcutter went out to the desert to gather camel-thorn bushes,
then sold them in the marketplace as firewood. In this way, he earned barely enough for the
two of them.
One morning, the woodcutter’s daughter said, “Father, we always have enough to eat.
But just once, it would be nice to have something special. Do you think you could buy us some
date cakes?”
“I think I could do that, my dear,” said the woodcutter. “I’ll just gather some extra wood
today.”
So the woodcutter walked farther that day to gather more thorn bushes. But he took
longer than he meant to.
By the time he got back with the wood,
darkness had fallen. It was too late to go to the
marketplace. What’s more, when he reached his
house, he found that his daughter had already
bolted the front door and gone to bed.
39
Knock as he would, there was no answer. So he had to sleep outside on the doorstep.
Next morning, the woodcutter awoke while it was still dark. He told himself, “I might
as well go out right now and get another big load of wood. Then I can sell twice as much and
buy even more date cakes.”
So he left his load and went back to the desert to gather more bushes. But again he took
longer than he meant to, and when he got back, it was dark and the door was bolted. So again
he had to sleep on the doorstep.
He awoke once more before dawn. “There’s no sense wasting a day,” he said. “I’ll go
back out for one more big load. How many date cakes we’ll have then!”
But yet again he took too long, and yet again the door was bolted when he got back.
The woodcutter sank to the doorstep and wept.
“What’s wrong, old man?”
He looked up to see a dervish in a long green robe and a tall green cap.
“Holy sir, for three days I have gone out to gather thorn bushes, and for three days I have
come home too late to get into my house. And in all that time, I’ve had nothing to eat.”
“What night is this, old man?”
The woodcutter said, “Why, Friday eve, of course.”
“That’s right. It’s the eve of our holy day. And that’s the time of Mushkil Gusha.”
“Mushkil Gusha?” said the woodcutter.
“That’s right, old man—the ‘Remover of Difficulties.’”
The holy man took some roasted chickpeas and raisins from his pouch and handed them
to the woodcutter. “Here, share this with me.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“You may not know it,” the dervish went on, “but Mushkil Gusha is already helping you.
If you want your good fortune to continue, here’s what you must do: Every Friday eve, find
someone in need. Then share what you have, and tell a tale of Mushkil Gusha. That way, you
both will be helped.”
And with that, the holy man vanished.
As the woodcutter stared at the empty spot, the door to his house swung open.
“Father, where have you been? Oh, please come inside! I was so worried!”
A few days passed, while the woodcutter and his daughter enjoyed the many date cakes
he bought after selling his wood. Then one morning, when the woodcutter had gone to the
desert and his daughter had finished her housework, she decided to go walking in a public park.
She was strolling down a broad path when a carriage stopped beside her.
40
“What a pretty little girl!” said a royal young lady. “I am the daughter of the king. Would
you like to be my handmaiden?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the girl said, blushing.
So the woodcutter’s daughter became a handmaiden of the princess. With the gifts the
princess gave her, she and her father became quite rich. He bought a nice house, and he didn’t
have to gather thorn bushes anymore.
But somehow he forgot what the dervish told him.
A month went by. One day, the princess went on a picnic to one of her father’s private
gardens, and she brought along the woodcutter’s daughter. There was a small lake there, so
they decided to go for a swim.
The princess took off her necklace and hung it on a branch overlooking the water. But
when she came out, she forgot all about it.
A few days later at the palace, the princess looked for the necklace but couldn’t find it.
She turned angrily to the woodcutter’s daughter.
“You stole my necklace! You must have taken it when we went for our swim!”
“No, Your Highness, I wouldn’t do that!”
“You’re a thief and a liar too! I’ll show you what happens to people of your kind! Get
out of my sight!”
The woodcutter’s daughter ran home in tears. But an hour later, soldiers came to the
door. They arrested the woodcutter and carried him off to a public square in front of the prison.
Then they locked his feet in the stocks and left him there.
The woodcutter had to suffer the taunts and jeers of the passersby. Some people were
kinder, though, and even threw him scraps of food.
Now, that evening was Friday eve. As the sun set, the woodcutter cast his thoughts over
all that had happened to him in the past weeks. All at once, he cried out.
“Oh, what a foolish, ungrateful wretch I am! Didn’t the dervish say to share what I have
each Friday eve and tell of Mushkil Gusha? Yet I haven’t done it once!”
Just then, a packet of chickpeas and raisins landed by the woodcutter. When he looked
up, he didn’t see who had thrown it. But he did see a beggar boy coming by.
“Young friend!” called the woodcutter. “Please share this with me while I tell you a
story.”
The boy sat down and gratefully took what was offered. As he ate, the woodcutter related
everything that had happened, from when his daughter asked for date cakes, to when he was
put in the stocks.
“Thank you, sir,” said the boy. “I needed the food, and the story was good too. I hope it
has a happy ending.”
41
The beggar boy went on his way. But he’d only gone a block when a rich merchant
stopped him.
“My one and only son! Ever since you were stolen at birth, I’ve looked for that birthmark
on your left cheek. Now at last I’ve found you!”
But they leave our story here.
The next day, the princess had another picnic in her father’s private garden, and again
she went down to the lake for a swim. She was about to step into the water when she saw the
reflection of her necklace. She looked up into the tree—and there was the necklace itself, right
where she had left it.
“That woodcutter’s daughter didn’t take it at all!”
By the end of the day, the woodcutter was free from the stocks, and his daughter was
back in the palace.
And every Friday eve after that, the woodcutter always remembered to find someone in
need, share what he had, and tell his tale of Mushkil Gusha.
Isfahan ~ ISS-fah-hon
Mushkil Gusha ~ MUSH-kil goo-SHAH (rhymes with “push kill goo Shah”)
17 Rapunzel
There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child. At length the
woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the
back of their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most
beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to
go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all
the world. One day the woman was standing by this window
and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed
which was planted with the most beautiful rampion
(rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green that she longed
for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire
increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get
any of it, she quite pined away, and looked pale and
miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What
aileth thee, dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, "if I can't get some
of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our house, to
eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her, thought, "Sooner
than let thy wife die, bring her some of the rampion thyself,
let it cost thee what it will." In the twilight of the evening,
42
he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a handful
of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it with much
relish. She, however, liked it so much—-so very much, that the next day she longed for it three
times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend into
the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had
clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before
him. "How canst thou dare," said she with angry look, "to descend into my garden and steal
my rampion like a thief? Thou shalt suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place
of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from
the window, and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to
eat." Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as
thou sayest, I will allow thee to take away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make
one condition, thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into the world; it shall be
well treated, and I will care for it like a mother." The man in his terror consented to everything,
and when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the
name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her.
Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she was twelve years old,
the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but
quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself
beneath it and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair to me."
Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice of the
enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the
window above, and then the hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it.
After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through the forest and went by the
tower. Then he heard a song, which was so charming that he stood still and listened. This was
Rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The King's
son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but none was to be found.
He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into
the forest and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an
enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair."
Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her. "If that
is the ladder by which one mounts, I will for once try my fortune," said he, and the next day
when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair."
Immediately the hair fell down and the King's son climbed up.
At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes had never yet beheld,
came to her; but the King's son began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his
43
heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her.
Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and
she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old Dame
Gothel does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, "I will willingly go away
with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring with thee a skein of silk every time that
thou comest, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and thou
wilt take me on thy horse." They agreed that until that time he should come to her every
evening, for the old woman came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once
Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for
me to draw up than the young King's son—-he is with me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked
child," cried the enchantress "What do I hear thee say! I thought I had separated thee from all
the world, and yet thou hast deceived me." In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful
tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and
snip, snap, they were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless
that she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and misery.
On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress in the evening fastened
the braids of hair which she had cut off, to the hook of the window, and when the King's son
came and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair,"
she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find his dearest Rapunzel above,
but the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried
mockingly, "Thou wouldst fetch thy dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the
nest; the cat has got it, and will scratch out thy eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to thee; thou wilt
never see her more." The King's son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt
down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell, pierced his
eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did
nothing but lament and weep over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery
for some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with the twins to which she
had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so
familiar to him that he went towards it, and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell
on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear again, and he could
see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they
lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented.
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Module Code SSD 06 Title of Module Communication Skills

Assignment 1 Type Individual

6 The Bremen Town Musicians

7 The Little Match Girl

11 The Boy Who Drew Cats

12 How Frog Went to Heaven

14 Too-too-moo and the Giant

15 The Wicked Girl

16 The Gifts of Friday Eve

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