The Three Little Pigs

At moonrise, Mother Pig sent her three little pigs off to seek their fortunes.

Where the road forked, each pig chose his own way. “I shall build a house of my own,” said each little pig.

The first little pig built his house of straw, for straw was light and quick. Before long, a wolf came padding through the meadow.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!” called the wolf. “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!” cried the pig.

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!” And he did, and he gobbled up the first little pig.

The second little pig built his house of sticks, for sticks were easy to stack. Soon the wolf came creeping between the trees.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!” called the wolf again. “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!” cried the pig.

So the wolf huffed and he puffed, and he blew the stick house in. Then he gobbled up the second little pig too.

The third little pig built his house of bricks. He laid each one straight and strong, though the work took many nights.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!” called the wolf. “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!” cried the third pig.

The wolf huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed. But the little brick house stood firm and still.

Then the third pig heard footsteps up on the roof. Quickly he filled his big iron pot and set it to boil.

At the top of the chimney, the wolf peered down. He never guessed what was bubbling below.

Down the chimney slid the wolf, right into the boiling pot. And that was the end of the wolf.

From then on, the third little pig lived safe and snug in his brick house, and every night he slept in peace.