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Fairytale lovers of all ages, will enjoy this collection of timeless classics, as Ms. Rae takes you into the woods and to far off places.
SPEAKER_01: Welcome to Forget Me
Not a Fairy Tales.
Classic stories for book lovers
of all ages.
Let's begin.
The Tale of Jemima Puddleduck.
Written and illustrated by
Beatrix Potter.
What a funny sight it is to see
a brood of ducklings with a hen.
Listen to the story of Jemima
Puddleduck, who was annoyed
because the farmer's wife would
not let her hatch her own eggs.
Her sister-in-law, Mrs.
Rebecca Puddled, was perfectly
willing to leave the hatching to
someone else.
I have not the patience to sit
on a nest for 28 days.
And no more have you, Jemima.
You would let them go cold.
You know you would.
Quacked Jemima Puddleduck.
She tried to hide her eggs, but
they were always found and
carried off.
Jemima Puddleduck became quite
desperate.
She determined to make a nest
right away from the farm.
She set off on a fine spring
afternoon along the cart road
that leads over the hill.
She was wearing a shawl and a
poke bonnet.
When she reached the top of the
hill, she saw a wood in the
distance.
She thought it looked like a
safe, quiet spot.
Jemima Puddle Duck was not much
in the habit of flying.
She ran downhill a few yards,
clapping her shawl, and then she
jumped off into the air.
She flew beautifully when she
had got a good start.
She skimmed along over the
treetops until she saw an open
place in the middle of the wood
where the trees and brushwood
had been cleared.
Jemima alighted rather heavily
and began to waddle about in
search of a convenient, dry
nesting place.
She rather fancied a tree stump
amongst some tall foxgloves.
But, seated upon the stump, she
was startled to find an
elegantly dressed gentleman
reading a newspaper.
He had black prick ears and
sandy colored whiskers.
Quack, said Jemima Puddleduck
with her head and her bonnet on
one side.
Quack.
The gentleman raised his eyes
above his newspaper and looked
curiously at Jemima.
Um, madam, have you lost your
way?
said he.
He had a long bushy tail, which
he was sitting upon, as the
stump was somewhat damp.
Jemima thought him mighty civil
and handsome.
She explained that she had not
lost her way, but that she was
trying to find a convenient, dry
nesting place.
Ah, is that so indeed?
said the gentleman with the
sandy whiskers.
He looked curiously at Jemima.
He folded up the newspaper and
put it in his coattail pocket.
Jemima complained of the
superflorous pen.
Indeed, how interesting.
I wish I could have met with
that fowl.
I would teach it to mind its own
business.
But as to Aness, there is no
difficulty.
I have a sack full of feathers
in my woodshed.
No, my dear madam, you will be
in nobody's way.
You may sit there as long as you
like, said the bushy,
long-tailed gentleman.
He led the way to a very
retired, dismal looking house
amongst the foxclubs.
It was built of faggots and
turf, and there were two broken
tails, one on top of another by
way of a chimney.
This is my summer residence.
You would not find my earth, my
winter house, so convenient,
said the hospitable gentleman.
There was a tumble-down shed at
the back of the house made of
old soap boxes.
The gentleman opened the door
and showed Jemima in.
The shed was almost quite full
of feathers.
It was almost suffocating, but
it was comfortable and very
soft.
Jemima Puddle Duck was rather
surprised to find such a vast
quantity of feathers.
But it was very comfortable, and
she made a nest without any
trouble at all.
When she came out, the sandy
whiskered gentleman was sitting
on a log reading the newspaper.
At least he had it spread out,
but he was looking over the top
of it.
He was so polite that he seemed
almost sorry to let Jemima go
home for the night.
He promised to take great care
of her nest until she came back
again next day.
He said he loved eggs and
ducklings.
He should be proud to see a fine
nest bull in his wood shed.
Jemima Puddle Duck came every
afternoon.
She laid nine eggs in the nest.
They were greeny white and very
large.
The foxy gentleman admired them
immensely.
He used to turn them over and
count them when Jemima was not
there.
At last, Jemima told him that
she intended to begin to sit
next day.
And I will bring a bag of corn
with me so that I need never
leave my nest until the eggs are
hatched.
They might catch cold, said the
conscientious Jemima.
Madam, I beg you not to trouble
yourself with a bag.
I will provide oats.
But before you commence your
tedious sitting, I intend to
give you a treat.
Let us have a dinner party all
to ourselves.
May I ask you to bring up some
herbs from the farm garden to
make a savory omelet?
Hmm.
Sage, thyme, and mint, and two
onions and some parsley.
I will provide lard for the
stuff.
Lard for the omelets, said the
hospitable gentleman with sandy
whiskers.
Jemima Puddle Duck was a
simpleton.
Not even the mention of sage and
onions made her suspicious.
She went round the farm garden,
nibbling off snippets of all the
different sorts of herbs that
are used for stuffing roast
duck.
And she waddled into the kitchen
and got two onions out of a
basket.
The collie dog, Tep, met her
coming out.
Hmm, what are you doing with
those onions?
Where do you go every afternoon
by yourself, Jemima Puddle Duck?
Jemima was rather in awe of the
collie.
She told him the whole story.
The collie listened with his
wise head on one side.
He grinned when she described
the polite gentleman with sandy
whiskers.
He asked several questions about
the wood and about the exact
position of the house and shed.
Then he went out and trotted
down the village.
He went to look for two foxhound
puppies who were out at walk
with the butcher.
Jemima Puddled went up the cart
road for the last time on a
sunny afternoon.
She was rather burdened with
bunches of herbs and two onions
in a bag.
She flew over the wood and
alighted opposite the house of
the bushy long-tailed gentleman.
He was sitting on a log, he
sniffed the air, and kept
glancing uneasily round the
wood.
When Jemima alighted, he quite
jumped.
Come into the house as soon as
you have looked at your eggs.
Give me the herbs for the
omelet.
Be sharp.
He was rather abrupt.
Jemima Puddle Duck had never
heard him speak like that.
She felt surprised and
uncomfortable.
While she was inside, she heard
pattering feet round the back of
the shed.
Someone with a black nose
sniffed at the bottom of the
door and then locked it.
Jemima became much alarmed.
SPEAKER_00: A moment afterwards,
there were most awful noises.
Barking, feigning, growls and
howls, squealing and groans.
SPEAKER_01: And nothing more was
ever seen of that foxy,
whiskered gentleman.
Presently, Cap opened the door
of the shed and let out Jemima
Puddled.
Unfortunately, the puppies
rushed in and gobbled up all the
eggs before he could stop them.
He had a bite on his ear, and
both the puppies were limping.
Jemima Puddleduck was escorted
home in tears on account of
those eggs.
She laid some more in June, and
she was permitted to keep them
herself.
Jemima Puddleduck was escorted
home in tears on account of
those eggs.
She laid some more in June, and
she was permitted to keep them
herself, but only four of them
hatched.
Jemima Puddleduck said that it
was because of her nerves, but
she had always been a bad
sitter.
The End I hope you like this
story.
The Tale of Jemima Puddled.
Fairy tales contain many morals.
One lesson from this story is
think things through before
rushing ahead to prove a point.
If you don't, you may end up
losing more than you realize.
Thanks for listening.
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