Little Red Riding-Hood, Katharine Pyle
Little Red Riding-Hood
Katharine Pyle
8:00 m Children Lvl 1.61 2.4 mb
"Little Red Riding Hood" is a European fairy tale about a young girl and a Big Bad Wolf. Its origins can be traced back to several pre-17th century European folk tales.

Little Red Riding-Hood

Katharine Pyle

There was once a little girl whose father and mother loved her so dearly that they thought nothing too good for her. Her mother made for her the prettiest of little dresses; her stockings were of fine yarn, and there were bright buckles on her shoes. Her mother also made for her a little cloak and hood of red cloth, and the little girl looked so pretty in them that her mother called her Little Red Riding-Hood instead of Mary, as she had been christened.

Little Red Riding-Hood had a grandmother who was so old that sometimes she lay in bed all day and felt too weak to get up.

One day the mother called the little girl to her and said, “My child, I have put a pat of butter and some fresh eggs and a wheatcake in this basket. Take it and carry it to your grandmother. Run along quickly, and do not loiter nor stop to talk to anyone along the way, for I want you to get back before the afternoon is late.”

“Yes, dear mother,” said the little girl, and she took the basket in her hand and set out for her grandmother’s house.

At first she ran along briskly and stopped for nothing, but the fields were full of pretty flowers. “I am sure,” thought Red Riding-Hood “that my grandmother would be glad to have a bunch of daisies and buttercups.” She began to pick one here and another there until she had quite a handful.

Presently she heard feet padding along the path, and the old gray wolf came trotting by.

“Good-day, Red Riding-Hood,” said the wolf.

“Good-day,” answered the child.

“And where are you going this fine bright day with your basket on your arm?”

“Oh, I am going to my grandmother’s house. She is so old that sometimes she lies in bed and cannot get up, and I am taking her some butter and some fresh eggs and a wheaten cake.”

“And where does your grandmother live?”

“She lives over beyond the wood in a little white house with a thatched roof and green blinds, and the path runs straight there.”

The wolf had now learned all he cared to know. He bade Red Riding-Hood good-by and trotted on briskly.

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