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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.
Welcome to Forget Me Not Fairy
Tales, classic stories for book
lovers of all ages.
Let's begin.
The Little Red Hen.
Retold and illustrated by
Florence White Williams.
A little red hen lived in a
barnyard.
She spent almost all of her time
walking about the barnyard in
her pickety peckety fashion,
scratching everywhere for worms.
She 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.
When they were gathered about
her, she would distribute choice
morsels of her tidbit.
A busy little body she was.
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 sky, he did not care what
happened so long as he could eat
and grow fat.
One 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.
Carrying 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.
So 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 O 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 Then
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.
So 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 Little Red Hen I
will And she did she 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.
Poor 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 the rat said not
I So the good little red hen
could do nothing but say Well 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
flowers.
When the miller brought her the
flower, she walked back all the
way to her own barnyard in her
own pickety packety fashion.
She 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 fluffballs
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.
She would have liked to sleep
late in the morning, but her
checks, 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 today 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.
Alas, for the little red hen.
Once more her hopes were dashed.
For the pig said, not I.
And the cat said, not I and the
rat said not I.
So the little red hen said once
more Well 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 sat the dough
as was proper.
When it was time, she brought
out the molding board and the
baking tins, molded 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.
At last, the great moment
arrived.
A delicious odor was wafted upon
the autumn breeze.
Everywhere the barnyard citizen
sniffed the air with delight.
The red hen ambled in her
pickety packety way toward the
source of all this excitement.
Although 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.
Small 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 ran
ahead and called, Who will help
eat the bread?
All the animals in the barnyard
were watching hungrily and
smacking their lips in
anticipation.
And the pig said, I will.
And the cat said, Mew, I will.
And the rat said, I will.
And she did.
I hope you like this story.
The Little Red Hen Retold by
Florence White Williams.
Fairy tales contain many morals.
One lesson from this story is
don't be lazy.
If you aren't willing to help,
then do not expect to benefit
from the hard work of others.
Thanks for listening.
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