The Little Robber Girl
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES
Animal Sketches And Stories
Blondine Bonne Biche and Beau Minon
BRER RABBIT and HIS NEIGHBORS
CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
FABLES FROM INDIA
FATHER PLAYS AND MOTHER PLAYS
FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
For Classes Ii. And Iii.
For Classes Iv. And V.
For Kindergarten And Class I.
FUN FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
Good Little Henry
JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES]
Jean De La Fontaine
King Alexander's Adventures
KINGS AND WARRIORS
LAND AND WATER FAIRIES
Lessons From Nature
LITTLE STORIES that GROW BIG
MODERN FAIRY TALES
MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED
MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES
MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES
Myths And Legends
NEGLECT THE FIRE
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
PLACES AND FAMILIES
Poems Of Nature
RESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)
RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"
RIDING SONGS for FATHER'S KNEE
ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY
Selections From The Bible
SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES
Some Children's Poets
Songs Of Life
STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
STORIES for LITTLE BOYS
STORIES FROM BOTANY
STORIES FROM GREAT BRITAIN
STORIES FROM IRELAND
STORIES FROM PHYSICS
STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA
STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY
STORIES _for_ LITTLE GIRLS
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
The King Of The Golden River; Or, The Black Brothers
The Little Grey Mouse
THE OLD FAIRY TALES
The Princess Rosette
THE THREE HERMITS
THE TWO OLD MEN
UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES
VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
The Little Pig
from Boys And Girls Bookshelf
- STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS
BY MAUD LINDSAY
Once upon a time a little black-and-white pig with a curly tail went
out to take a morning walk. He intended to go to the Mud Puddle, but
before he got there he came to a garden gate that was stretched wide
"Umph, umph," said the little pig, when he saw it; "isn't this fine? I
have wanted to get into this garden ever since I can remember." And in
he went as fast as his four short legs could carry him.
The garden was full of flowers. There were pansies, and daisies, and
violets, and honeysuckles, and all the bright flowers that you can
name. Everything was in the proper place. There were tulips on either
side of the garden walk, and hollyhocks stood in a straight row against
the fence. The pansies had a garden bed all to themselves, and the
young vines were just beginning to climb up on the frame that the
gardener had made for their special benefit.
"Umph, umph, nice place," said the little pig; and he put his nose down
in the pansy bed and began to root up the pansies, for he thought that
was the way to behave in a garden.
While he was enjoying himself there the brown hen came down the road
with her family. She had thirteen children, and she was looking for a
nice rich spot where they might scratch for their breakfast. When she
saw the open gate she was delighted.
"Cluck, cluck, come on," she said to her chicks.
"Peep, peep, peep," said the little chickens, "is it a worm?"
"It is a beautiful garden, and there is nothing that I like better than
to scratch in a garden," answered the hen, as she bustled through the
gate. The chickens followed her, and soon they were all busy scratching
among the violets.
They had not been there very long when the red cow walked by the
garden. She was on her way to the Pond, but when she saw the open
garden gate she decided at once to go in.
"Moo, moo," she said, "this is delightful. Tender flowers are such a
treat." And she swished her tail over her back as she nipped the
daisies from their stems.
"Cluck," said the hen, "Peep," said the chicks, "Umph," said the little
pig, for they were pleased to have company. While they were talking a
rabbit with very bright eyes peeped in at the gate.
"Oh, is it a party?" he said when he saw the red cow, and the pig with
a curly tail, and the hen and chickens.
"Come in," said the pig, "and help yourself. There is plenty of room."
So the rabbit hopped into the garden and nibbled the green leaves and
the young vines.
"How many of us are here?" asked the red cow, but before any of them
could count, the gardener came home.
When he looked into the garden he began to cry: "Oh, my pretty
pansies! my dear daisies! my sweet violets! my tender young vines!"
"What is he talking about?" said the chickens.
"I suppose he wants us to go out," answered the hen; and she ruffled
her feathers and quarreled as the gardener came hurrying toward them.
Then the cow ran one way and the pig ran another. The little chickens
got lost in the bushes, and the rabbit hid in the vines. The hen
cackled, and the pig squealed, and the gardener scolded. By the time
he had driven them all out of the garden the sun was high in the sky.
"Umph, umph," cried the little pig, as he scampered down the road, "we
will all come back to-morrow."
But when they went back the next day the garden gate was fastened
close, and not even the smallest chicken could get inside.
[D] From "More Winter Stories," by Maud Lindsay; used by
permission of the publishers, Milton Bradley Company, Springfield,
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