THE LITTLE RED HEN
An Old English
Folk Tale
Retold
and
Illustrated
by
FLORENCE WHITE WILLIAMS
The
Saalfield Publishing Company
Chicago – Akron, Ohio – New York
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
COPYRIGHT, 1918
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
The Little Red Hen
Little Red Hen lived in a
barnyard. She spent almost all of
her time walking about the barnyard
in
her
picketty-pecketty
fashion,
scratching
everywhere
for
worms.
he dearly loved fat, delicious worms
and felt they were absolutely necessary
to the health of her children. As
often as
she
found a
worm
she
would
call
“Chuck-chuck-chuck!”
to her
chickies.
hen they were gathered about
her, she would distribute choice
morsels of her tid-bit. A busy
little body was she!
A cat usually napped lazily in the barn
door, not even bothering herself to scare
the rat who ran here and there as
he pleased.
And
as for
the pig
who lived
in the
sty—he
did
not care what
happened
so long as he could eat and grow fat.
ne day the Little Red Hen found a
Seed. It was a Wheat Seed, but the
Little Red Hen was so accustomed to bugs
and worms that she supposed this to be some
new and perhaps very delicious kind of meat.
She bit it gently and found that it resembled
a worm in no way whatsoever as to taste
although because it was long and
slender, a Little Red Hen might easily
be fooled by its appearance.
arrying it about, she made
many inquiries as to what it might
be. She found it was a Wheat
Seed and that, if planted,
it would grow up
and when ripe it could
be made into flour and
then into bread.
When she discovered
that, she knew it ought
to be planted. She was
so busy hunting food for
herself and her family
that, naturally, she
thought she ought not
to take time to plant it.
o she thought of the Pig—upon whom
time must hang heavily and of the
Cat who had nothing to do, and of
the great fat Rat with his idle hours, and she
called loudly:
“Who
will
plant
the
Seed?”
But the Pig said, “Not I,”
and the Cat said, “Not I,”
and the Rat said, “Not I.”
“Well, then,” said the Little Red Hen,
“I will.”
And she did.
hen she went on with her daily
duties through the long summer
days, scratching for worms and
feeding her chicks, while
the Pig grew fat,
and the Cat grew fat,
and the Rat grew fat,
and the Wheat
grew tall and
ready for
harvest.
o one day the Little Red Hen chanced
to notice how large the Wheat was
and that the grain was ripe, so she
ran about calling briskly: “Who will cut the
Wheat?”
The Pig said, “Not I,”
the Cat said, “Not I,”
and the Rat said, “Not I.”
“Well,
then,”
said the
Little
Red
Hen,
“I
will.”
And she
did.
he got the sickle from among the
farmer’s tools in the barn and proceeded
to cut off all of the big plant
of Wheat.
On the ground lay the nicely cut Wheat,
ready to be gathered and threshed, but the
newest and yellowest and downiest of Mrs.
Hen’s chicks set up a “peep-peep-peeping”
in their most vigorous fashion, proclaiming
to the world at large, but most particularly to
their mother, that she was neglecting them.
oor Little Red Hen! She felt quite
bewildered and hardly knew where to
turn.
Her attention was sorely divided between
her duty to her children and her duty to the
Wheat, for which she felt responsible.
So, again, in a very hopeful tone, she
called out, “Who will thresh the Wheat?”
But the Pig, with a grunt, said, “Not I,”
and the Cat, with a meow, said, “Not I,” and
the Rat, with a squeak, said, “Not I.”
So the Little Red Hen, looking, it must
be admitted, rather discouraged, said, “Well,
I will, then.”
And she did.
Of course, she had to feed her babies
first, though, and when she had gotten them
all to sleep for their afternoon nap, she
went out and threshed the Wheat. Then
she called out: “Who will carry the Wheat
to the mill to be ground?”
Turning their backs with snippy glee,
that Pig said, “Not I,”
and
that
Cat
said,
“Not
I,”
and
that
Rat
said,
“Not
I.”
o the good Little Red Hen could
do nothing but say, “I will then.”
And she did.
Carrying the sack of Wheat, she
trudged off to the distant mill. There she
ordered the Wheat ground into beautiful
white flour. When the miller brought her the
flour she
walked
slowly
back all
the way
to her own
barnyard
in her own
picketty-pecketty
fashion.
he even managed, in spite of her load,
to catch a nice juicy worm now and
then and had one left for the babies
when she reached them. Those cunning
little fluff-balls were so glad to see their
mother. For the first time, they really
appreciated her.
After this really strenuous day Mrs. Hen
retired to her slumbers earlier than usual—indeed,
before the colors came into the sky
to herald the setting of the sun, her usual
bedtime hour.
She would have liked to sleep late in the
morning, but her chicks, joining in the
morning chorus of the hen yard, drove away
all hopes of such a luxury.
Even as she sleepily half opened one eye,
the thought came to her that to-day that
Wheat must, somehow, be made into bread.
She was not in the habit of making bread,
although, of course, anyone can make it if
he or she follows the recipe with care, and
she knew perfectly well that she could do it
if necessary.
So after her children were fed and made
sweet and fresh for the day, she hunted up
the Pig, the Cat and the Rat.
Still confident
that they would
surely help
her some day
she sang out,
“Who will
make the
bread?”
las for the Little Red Hen! Once
more her hopes were dashed! For
the
Pig
said,
“Not
I,”
the
Cat
said,
“Not
I,”
and
the
Rat
said,
“Not
I.”
o the Little Red Hen said once
more, “I will then,” and she did.
Feeling that she might have known all
the time that she would have to do it all
herself, she went and put on a fresh apron
and spotless cook’s cap. First of all she set
the dough, as was proper. When it
was time she brought out the moulding
board and the baking tins, moulded the
bread, divided it into loaves, and put them
into the oven to bake. All the while
the Cat sat lazily by, giggling and
chuckling.
And close at
hand the
vain Rat
powdered
his nose
and admired
himself
in a mirror.
In the distance
could be
heard the long-drawn
snores of
the dozing Pig.
t last the great moment arrived.
A delicious odor was wafted upon
the autumn breeze. Everywhere
the barnyard citizens sniffed the air with
delight.
The Red Hen ambled in her picketty-pecketty
way toward the source of all this
excitement.
lthough she appeared to be
perfectly calm, in reality she could
only with difficulty restrain an
impulse to dance and sing, for had she not
done
all
the
work
on
this
wonderful
bread?
mall wonder that she was the
most excited person in the barnyard!
She did not know whether the bread
would be fit to eat, but—joy of joys!—when
the lovely brown loaves came out of the oven,
they were done to perfection.
Then, probably because she had acquired
the habit, the Red Hen called:
“Who
will
eat
the
Bread?”
All the animals in the barnyard were
watching hungrily and smacking their lips in
anticipation, and
the Pig said, “I will,”
the Cat said, “I will,”
the Rat said, “I will.”
But the Little Red Hen said,
“No, you won’t. I will.”
And
she
did.
Uniform With This
Volume:
Little Black Sambo
Willie Mouse
Wee Peter Pug