The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time, three little pigs lived with their mother in a cottage at the end of an English lane. One bright morning she tied their lunch in three spotted cloths. "You are big enough now," she said. "Go and build your homes, and build them well." So off they went, past the hedges and the sheep, singing, "Trit, trot, trit, trot, three little pigs, and that's the lot!"

The first little pig met a man with a cart of straw. "Straw is light and straw is quick. I'll build my house in half a tick!" Along came a wolf, long and thin and looking for lunch. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in!" "No, no, by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!" Huff! Puff! Whoosh! Away flew the straw, and away ran the pig.

The second little pig met a man with a cart of sticks. "Sticks are cheap and sticks are neat. Here's a house to rest my feet!" He had just sat down when the first little pig came running in, and along came the wolf. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in!" "No, no, by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!" Huff! Puff! Crackle-clatter! Down came the sticks, and away ran two little pigs.

The third little pig met a man with a cart of bricks. "Bricks are heavy, bricks are slow, but bricks will stay and will not go." All week he worked, brick on brick on brick, and he built a stout oak door and a tall chimney. He had just lit the fire when two little pigs came tumbling up the path. "Quick, come in!" he said. Click went the latch, and there they were, safe and warm, all three.

Along came the wolf. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in!" "No, no, by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!" He huffed till his ears turned pink. He puffed till his tail stood up. Not one brick moved. So the wolf tried a trick. "Little pig, I know a field of fine turnips. Meet me at six tomorrow, and we'll dig them together."

The third little pig was no goose. He got up at five, trotted to the field, and was home again with a basket of turnips before the rooster crowed. At six the wolf knocked. "Are you ready, little pig?" "Ready?" said the pig through the door. "I've been and come back, and the turnips are in the pot. They are very nice, thank you." The wolf stamped his paw. And then he took the biggest breath of his whole life.

He huffed until he had no huff. He puffed until he had no puff. Soon there was nothing left in him but one small squeak. Wobbling, he climbed up on the roof to peep down the chimney. Now, the fire was out, and the pigs had a big tub of warm bathwater right under the chimney. Slip, slide, bump, splash! Down came the wolf, into the soapy suds. Out he leaped, with a bubble on his nose, and he ran over the hill and never came back.

The next day, Mother came to visit, and she was very pleased. The first little pig made soft beds of straw. The second little pig stacked sticks for the fire. The third little pig kept the bricks all around them. That night the wind came down the lane. It said huff, ever so small. It said puff, ever so soft. But nothing moved at all. Three little pigs lay in a row, warm and full of turnips. Good night, little pigs. Good night.