Lamby's Favorite Fairy Tales for Kids

A Collection of Classic Tales from Hans Christian Andersen, the Brothers Grimm & Other Storytellers

The Emperor's New Clothes

Many years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of new clothes, that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go either to the theatre or the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any other king or emperor, one is accustomed to say, "he is sitting in council," it was always said of him, "The Emperor is sitting in his wardrobe."

Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character.

"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!" thought the Emperor. "Had I such a suit, I might at once find out what men in my realms are unfit for their office, and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately." And he caused large sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly.

So the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and affected to work very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks; and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at night.

"I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth," said the Emperor to himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was, however, rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the manufacture. To be sure, he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he would prefer sending somebody else, to bring him intelligence about the weavers, and their work, before he troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess; and all were anxious to learn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbors might prove to be.

"I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," said the Emperor at last, after some deliberation, "he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than he is."

So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their might, at their empty looms. "What can be the meaning of this?" thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. "I cannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms." However, he did not express his thoughts aloud.

The impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colors were not very beautiful; at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not discover anything on the looms, for a very good reason, viz: there was nothing there. "What!" thought he again. "Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see the stuff."

"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. "You do not say whether the stuff pleases you."

"Oh, it is excellent!" replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. "This pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the Emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them."

"We shall be much obliged to you," said the impostors, and then they named the different colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat them to the Emperor; and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their knapsacks; and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as before at their empty looms.

The Emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister; he surveyed the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty frames.

"Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the minister?" asked the impostors of the Emperor's second ambassador; at the same time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colors which were not there.

"I certainly am not stupid!" thought the messenger. "It must be, that I am not fit for my good, profitable office! That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything about it." And accordingly he praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colors and patterns. "Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty," said he to his sovereign when he returned, "the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent."

The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the Emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense.

And now the Emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they were aware of the Emperor's approach, went on working more diligently than ever; although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms.

"Is not the work absolutely magnificent?" said the two officers of the crown, already mentioned. "If your Majesty will only be pleased to look at it! What a splendid design! What glorious colors!" and at the same time they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone else could see this exquisite piece of workmanship.

"How is this?" said the Emperor to himself. "I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an Emperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen--Oh! the cloth is charming," said he, aloud. "It has my complete approbation." And he smiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others; nevertheless, they all exclaimed, "Oh, how beautiful!" and advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid material, for the approaching procession. "Magnificent! Charming! Excellent!" resounded on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly gay. The Emperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn in their button-holes, and the title of "Gentlemen Weavers."

The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning, so that everyone might see how anxious they were to finish the Emperor's new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with their scissors; and sewed with needles without any thread in them. "See!" cried they, at last. "The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"

And now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers; and the rogues raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up, saying, "Here are your Majesty's trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the mantle! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one might fancy one has nothing at all on, when dressed in it; that, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth."

"Yes indeed!" said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture.

"If your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit on the new suit, in front of the looking glass."

The Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his new suit; the Emperor turning round, from side to side, before the looking glass.

"How splendid his Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!" everyone cried out. "What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal robes!"

"The canopy which is to be borne over your Majesty, in the procession, is waiting," announced the chief master of the ceremonies.

"I am quite ready," answered the Emperor. "Do my new clothes fit well?" asked he, turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit.

The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train felt about on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle; and pretended to be carrying something; for they would by no means betray anything like simplicity, or unfitness for their office.

So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital; and all the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, "Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!" in short, no one would allow that he could not see these much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the Emperor's various suits, had ever made so great an impression, as these invisible ones.

"But the Emperor has nothing at all on!" said a little child.

"Listen to the voice of innocence!" exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was whispered from one to another.

"But he has nothing at all on!" at last cried out all the people. The Emperor was vexed, for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold.

The Happy Family

Really, the largest green leaf in this country is a dock-leaf; if one holds it before one, it is like a whole apron, and if one holds it over one's head in rainy weather, it is almost as good as an umbrella, for it is so immensely large. The burdock never grows alone, but where there grows one there always grow several: it is a great delight, and all this delightfulness is snails' food. The great white snails which persons of quality in former times made fricassees of, ate, and said, "Hem, hem! how delicious!" for they thought it tasted so delicate--lived on dock-leaves, and therefore burdock seeds were sown.

Now, there was an old manor-house, where they no longer ate snails, they were quite extinct; but the burdocks were not extinct, they grew and grew all over the walks and all the beds; they could not get the mastery over them--it was a whole forest of burdocks. Here and there stood an apple and a plum-tree, or else one never would have thought that it was a garden; all was burdocks, and there lived the two last venerable old snails.

They themselves knew not how old they were, but they could remember very well that there had been many more; that they were of a family from foreign lands, and that for them and theirs the whole forest was planted. They had never been outside it, but they knew that there was still something more in the world, which was called the manor-house, and that there they were boiled, and then they became black, and were then placed on a silver dish; but what happened further they knew not; or, in fact, what it was to be boiled, and to lie on a silver dish, they could not possibly imagine; but it was said to be delightful, and particularly genteel. Neither the chafers, the toads, nor the earth-worms, whom they asked about it could give them any information--none of them had been boiled or laid on a silver dish.

The old white snails were the first persons of distinction in the world, that they knew; the forest was planted for their sake, and the manor-house was there that they might be boiled and laid on a silver dish.

Now they lived a very lonely and happy life; and as they had no children themselves, they had adopted a little common snail, which they brought up as their own; but the little one would not grow, for he was of a common family; but the old ones, especially Dame Mother Snail, thought they could observe how he increased in size, and she begged father, if he could not see it, that he would at least feel the little snail's shell; and then he felt it, and found the good dame was right.

One day there was a heavy storm of rain.

"Hear how it beats like a drum on the dock-leaves!" said Father Snail.

"There are also rain-drops!" said Mother Snail. "And now the rain pours right down the stalk! You will see that it will be wet here! I am very happy to think that we have our good house, and the little one has his also! There is more done for us than for all other creatures, sure enough; but can you not see that we are folks of quality in the world? We are provided with a house from our birth, and the burdock forest is planted for our sakes! I should like to know how far it extends, and what there is outside!"

"There is nothing at all," said Father Snail. "No place can be better than ours, and I have nothing to wish for!"

"Yes," said the dame. "I would willingly go to the manorhouse, be boiled, and laid on a silver dish; all our forefathers have been treated so; there is something extraordinary in it, you may be sure!"

"The manor-house has most likely fallen to ruin!" said Father Snail. "Or the burdocks have grown up over it, so that they cannot come out. There need not, however, be any haste about that; but you are always in such a tremendous hurry, and the little one is beginning to be the same. Has he not been creeping up that stalk these three days? It gives me a headache when I look up to him!"

"You must not scold him," said Mother Snail. "He creeps so carefully; he will afford us much pleasure--and we have nothing but him to live for! But have you not thought of it? Where shall we get a wife for him? Do you not think that there are some of our species at a great distance in the interior of the burdock forest?"

"Black snails, I dare say, there are enough of," said the old one. "Black snails without a house--but they are so common, and so conceited. But we might give the ants a commission to look out for us; they run to and fro as if they had something to do, and they certainly know of a wife for our little snail!"

"I know one, sure enough--the most charming one!" said one of the ants. "But I am afraid we shall hardly succeed, for she is a queen!"

"That is nothing!" said the old folks. "Has she a house?"

"She has a palace!" said the ant. "The finest ant's palace, with seven hundred passages!"

"I thank you!" said Mother Snail. "Our son shall not go into an ant-hill; if you know nothing better than that, we shall give the commission to the white gnats. They fly far and wide, in rain and sunshine; they know the whole forest here, both within and without."

"We have a wife for him," said the gnats. "At a hundred human paces from here there sits a little snail in her house, on a gooseberry bush; she is quite lonely, and old enough to be married. It is only a hundred human paces!"

"Well, then, let her come to him!" said the old ones. "He has a whole forest of burdocks, she has only a bush!"

And so they went and fetched little Miss Snail. It was a whole week before she arrived; but therein was just the very best of it, for one could thus see that she was of the same species.

And then the marriage was celebrated. Six earth-worms shone as well as they could. In other respects the whole went off very quietly, for the old folks could not bear noise and merriment; but old Dame Snail made a brilliant speech. Father Snail could not speak, he was too much affected; and so they gave them as a dowry and inheritance, the whole forest of burdocks, and said--what they had always said--that it was the best in the world; and if they lived honestly and decently, and increased and multiplied, they and their children would once in the course of time come to the manor-house, be boiled black, and laid on silver dishes. After this speech was made, the old ones crept into their shells, and never more came out. They slept; the young couple governed in the forest, and had a numerous progeny, but they were never boiled, and never came on the silver dishes; so from this they concluded that the manor-house had fallen to ruins, and that all the men in the world were extinct; and as no one contradicted them, so, of course it was so. And the rain beat on the dock-leaves to make drum-music for their sake, and the sun shone in order to give the burdock forest a color for their sakes; and they were very happy, and the whole family was happy; for they, indeed were so.

The Leap Frog

A Flea, a Grasshopper, and a Leap-frog once wanted to see which could jump highest; and they invited the whole world, and everybody else besides who chose to come to see the festival. Three famous jumpers were they, as everyone would say, when they all met together in the room.

"I will give my daughter to him who jumps highest," exclaimed the King; "for it is not so amusing where there is no prize to jump for."

The Flea was the first to step forward. He had exquisite manners, and bowed to the company on all sides; for he had noble blood, and was, moreover, accustomed to the society of man alone; and that makes a great difference.

Then came the Grasshopper. He was considerably heavier, but he was well-mannered, and wore a green uniform, which he had by right of birth; he said, moreover, that he belonged to a very ancient Egyptian family, and that in the house where he then was, he was thought much of. The fact was, he had been just brought out of the fields, and put in a pasteboard house, three stories high, all made of court-cards, with the colored side inwards; and doors and windows cut out of the body of the Queen of Hearts. "I sing so well," said he, "that sixteen native grasshoppers who have chirped from infancy, and yet got no house built of cards to live in, grew thinner than they were before for sheer vexation when they heard me."

It was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper gave an account of themselves, and thought they were quite good enough to marry a Princess.

The Leap-frog said nothing; but people gave it as their opinion, that he therefore thought the more; and when the housedog snuffed at him with his nose, he confessed the Leap-frog was of good family. The old councillor, who had had three orders given him to make him hold his tongue, asserted that the Leap-frog was a prophet; for that one could see on his back, if there would be a severe or mild winter, and that was what one could not see even on the back of the man who writes the almanac.

"I say nothing, it is true," exclaimed the King; "but I have my own opinion, notwithstanding."

Now the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so high that nobody could see where he went to; so they all asserted he had not jumped at all; and that was dishonorable.

The Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped into the King's face, who said that was ill-mannered.

The Leap-frog stood still for a long time lost in thought; it was believed at last he would not jump at all.

"I only hope he is not unwell," said the house-dog; when, pop! he made a jump all on one side into the lap of the Princess, who was sitting on a little golden stool close by.

Hereupon the King said, "There is nothing above my daughter; therefore to bound up to her is the highest jump that can be made; but for this, one must possess understanding, and the Leap-frog has shown that he has understanding. He is brave and intellectual."

And so he won the Princess.

"It's all the same to me," said the Flea. "She may have the old Leap-frog, for all I care. I jumped the highest; but in this world merit seldom meets its reward. A fine exterior is what people look at now-a-days."

The Flea then went into foreign service, where, it is said, he was killed.

The Grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and reflected on worldly things; and he said too, "Yes, a fine exterior is everything--a fine exterior is what people care about." And then he began chirping his peculiar melancholy song, from which we have taken this history; and which may, very possibly, be all untrue, although it does stand here printed in black and white.

The Little Match Girl Who Lived

Here's a summary of the sad version (the one you don't tell kids at Christmas) as a newspaper headline: Copenhagen Rich People Don't Notice a Starving Crazy Blonde Girl on New Year's Eve Until She Freezes to Death in an Alley.

Yeah, you can almost hear them sleigh bells & taste the cocoa.

What's wrong with them people from Denmark? How about we make the story a merry and bright one by substituting the sad words with silly happy ones? It might not make any sense, but at least we won't hate Christmas when we get to the end.

It was joyfully warm and snowing sweetly. On the morning of the last day of the year, there went along the street a wealthy gigantic girl, pigtails under her top-hat and with fully-clothed feet. And that wealthy gigantic girl traded them for glass flip-flops across the street. She gave them old slippers to a boy who wanted to put them in a cradle and raise them as his own children.

So on the colossal girl went, her feet flipping and flopping and her toes a rosy-pink from the warm summer snow. In an brand-new apron that she wore were bundles of matches, and she carried a bundle also in her hand. Everybody bought her bunches of matchsticks all day every day, some giving her hundreds of dollars just for breathing. That rich ginormous girl, skipped along the sidewalk happy as a muddy piglet at the Sunday buffet.

The warm snowy day had exhausted her and almost made her vomit up them greasy hash browns. Soon, she would have to go home and dump her fortune into her Dad's lap. He was a great father and he kept his job because she was so pretty and the whole world wanted her family to be happy and comfortable. People were still throwing money at her because she was so noticeable there.

There was nothing else to do but light the matches. She rubbed one against the wall. It only smoked and went cold, so she ate it. And suddenly that huge girl tap-danced herself a crazy vision until she spat out the match. It was so much fun so she did it again and re-tasted all that free greasy diner food before she upchucked the second match too.

She was so tired of people and money, she decided to eat ALL of her matches. She saw some really weird things: a St. Patrick's Day tree , some serious-looking old men in diapers, some random woman riding a horse, and then a leprechaun threw up the thousand dollars under her glass flip-flops.

No more matches and it was time to go home for dinner with her wonderful, non-abusive father. And that little Irish feller in her crazy vision?

Well, he was actually there and took her hand, which was funny because he was so short and she was so tall and not little at all. They ran away together in a strange giggling skipping kind of way.

The townspeople laughed at the odd pair running by, for everyone should find a December leprechaun because it's wonderful way to celebrate Christmas, observe St. Patrick's Day, and start the New Year at the same time.

That's what I always say.

The Naughty Boy

Along time ago, there lived an old poet, a thoroughly kind old poet. As he was sitting one evening in his room, a dreadful storm arose without, and the rain streamed down from heaven; but the old poet sat warm and comfortable in his chimney-corner, where the fire blazed and the roasting apple hissed.

"Those who have not a roof over their heads will be wetted to the skin," said the good old poet.

"Oh let me in! Let me in! I am cold, and I'm so wet!" exclaimed suddenly a child that stood crying at the door and knocking for admittance, while the rain poured down, and the wind made all the windows rattle.

"Poor thing!" said the old poet, as he went to open the door. There stood a little boy, quite naked, and the water ran down from his long golden hair; he trembled with cold, and had he not come into a warm room he would most certainly have perished in the frightful tempest.

"Poor child!" said the old poet, as he took the boy by the hand. "Come in, come in, and I will soon restore thee! Thou shalt have wine and roasted apples, for thou art verily a charming child!" And the boy was so really. His eyes were like two bright stars; and although the water trickled down his hair, it waved in beautiful curls. He looked exactly like a little angel, but he was so pale, and his whole body trembled with cold. He had a nice little bow in his hand, but it was quite spoiled by the rain, and the tints of his many-colored arrows ran one into the other.

The old poet seated himself beside his hearth, and took the little fellow on his lap; he squeezed the water out of his dripping hair, warmed his hands between his own, and boiled for him some sweet wine. Then the boy recovered, his cheeks again grew rosy, he jumped down from the lap where he was sitting, and danced round the kind old poet.

"You are a merry fellow," said the old man. "What's your name?"

"My name is Cupid," answered the boy. "Don't you know me? There lies my bow; it shoots well, I can assure you! Look, the weather is now clearing up, and the moon is shining clear again through the window."

"Why, your bow is quite spoiled," said the old poet.

"That were sad indeed," said the boy, and he took the bow in his hand and examined it on every side. "Oh, it is dry again, and is not hurt at all; the string is quite tight. I will try it directly." And he bent his bow, took aim, and shot an arrow at the old poet, right into his heart. "You see now that my bow was not spoiled," said he laughing; and away he ran.

The naughty boy, to shoot the old poet in that way; he who had taken him into his warm room, who had treated him so kindly, and who had given him warm wine and the very best apples!

The poor poet lay on the earth and wept, for the arrow had really flown into his heart.

"Fie!" said he. "How naughty a boy Cupid is! I will tell all children about him, that they may take care and not play with him, for he will only cause them sorrow and many a heartache."

And all good children to whom he related this story, took great heed of this naughty Cupid; but he made fools of them still, for he is astonishingly cunning. When the university students come from the lectures, he runs beside them in a black coat, and with a book under his arm. It is quite impossible for them to know him, and they walk along with him arm in arm, as if he, too, were a student like themselves; and then, unperceived, he thrusts an arrow to their bosom. When the young maidens come from being examined by the clergyman, or go to church to be confirmed, there he is again close behind them. Yes, he is forever following people.

At the play, he sits in the great chandelier and burns in bright flames, so that people think it is really a flame, but they soon discover it is something else. He roves about in the garden of the palace and upon the ramparts: yes, once he even shot your father and mother right in the heart. Ask them only and you will hear what they'll tell you. Oh, he is a naughty boy, that Cupid; you must never have anything to do with him. He is forever running after everybody. Only think, he shot an arrow once at your old grandmother! But that is a long time ago, and it is all past now; however, a thing of that sort she never forgets. Fie, naughty Cupid! But now you know him, and you know, too, how ill-behaved he is!

The Real Princess

There was once a Prince who wished to marry a Princess; but then she must be a real Princess. He travelled all over the world in hopes of finding such a lady; but there was always something wrong. Princesses he found in plenty; but whether they were real Princesses it was impossible for him to decide, for now one thing, now another, seemed to him not quite right about the ladies. At last he returned to his palace quite cast down, because he wished so much to have a real Princess for his wife.

One evening a fearful tempest arose, it thundered and lightened, and the rain poured down from the sky in torrents: besides, it was as dark as pitch. All at once there was heard a violent knocking at the door, and the old King, the Prince's father, went out himself to open it.

It was a Princess who was standing outside the door. What with the rain and the wind, she was in a sad condition; the water trickled down from her hair, and her clothes clung to her body. She said she was a real Princess.

"Ah! we shall soon see that!" thought the old Queen-mother; however, she said not a word of what she was going to do; but went quietly into the bedroom, took all the bed-clothes off the bed, and put three little peas on the bedstead. She then laid twenty mattresses one upon another over the three peas, and put twenty feather beds over the mattresses.

Upon this bed the Princess was to pass the night.

The next morning she was asked how she had slept. "Oh, very badly indeed!" she replied. "I have scarcely closed my eyes the whole night through. I do not know what was in my bed, but I had something hard under me, and am all over black and blue. It has hurt me so much!"

Now it was plain that the lady must be a real Princess, since she had been able to feel the three little peas through the twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. None but a real Princess could have had such a delicate sense of feeling.

The Prince accordingly made her his wife; being now convinced that he had found a real Princess. The three peas were however put into the cabinet of curiosities, where they are still to be seen, provided they are not lost.

Wasn't this a lady of real delicacy?

The Brothers Grimm

The Singing Bone

Once upon a long time ago in another country, there was a lot of talky rumors about a wild pigman, sometimes called Choppa-Choppa in Mexico, Iceland and Ancient Cleveland. Well, a European Choppa Choppa was destroying fields, killing cows, and ripping people apart with its tusks and piggy toenails he never clipped. King Brandon promised a large reward to anyone who could free the land from Choppa-Choppa, but the wild pigman was so strong that nobody dared to go near the woods where it lived.

Finally, the king proclaimed that whoever killed the Choppa could marry his daughter.

Now in this country there lived two brothers, the sons of a very poor and lazy man. They declared that they would do it. Max, the older one, was crafty. Deedles, the younger one, was innocent and simple, and they went to the king, who told them to enter the woods from opposite sides to be more sure of killing the Choppa-Choppa.

So, Max went into the woods from the west as Deedles went in from the east.

After Deedles had walked a little while, a dwarf with a spear appeared and said, "I am giving you this spear because your heart is good. With it you can attack the Choppa because it will do you no harm."

Deedles thanked the dwarf, put the spear on his shoulder, and walked on fearlessly. Before long he saw the Choppa. It attacked him, but he held the spear toward it, and in its blind fury the Choppa ran into the spear with such force that its heart was slashed in two. Deedles clapped like a toy monkey, put the monster on his back and turned towards home to take it to the king. Walking out of the woods, Deedles came to a house where the people were having a dancing party.

Max was in there because he thought he had plenty of time to kill the Choppa. When he saw his younger brother coming with the dead Choppa, Bad Max said, "Come in, dear Deedles, and rest yourself."

Deedles, not suspecting evil from his brother, told Max about the dwarf and the spear that helped him kill the Choppa. Later that evening, they left together and came to a bridge over a brook. When Deedles reached the middle above the water, Max hit him from behind and killed poor dumb Deedles. Max buried him beneath the bridge, delivered the Choppa to the king, and pretended that he killed it. Bad Max then married the princess and convinced everybody that the Choppa killed his little brother.

But God knew the truth, and was about to make sure that the black deed would come to light.

After many long years a loony shepherd was driving some sheep, my awesome ancestors, across the bridge. He saw a little snow-white bone lying in the sand below the water. Thinking that it would make a good mouthpiece (told you he was a little crazy), he climbed down, picked it up, and then carved out of it a mouthpiece for his horn. When he blew into it for the first time, to his great astonishment the bone began to sing:

Oh, my dear crazy shepherd,
I am a little leg bone.
My brother Max killed me,
And buried me beneath the bridge
To get the Choppa Choppa
To marry the princess!

"What a wonderful horn," said the shepherd. "It sings by itself. I must take it to the king." And when he brought it before the king, the bone horn sang its little Top-Forty Pop song, "Don't DIsturb My Crazy Leg Bone Choppa Groove One More Time." The king had the earth beneath the bridge dug up, which revealed the whole skeleton of poor murdered dumb Deedles.

Max got in big trouble. He was sewn into a sack and drowned alive. Deedle's bones were laid to rest in a beautiful grave in the churchyard near the river where Max died, and now Max's ghost walks in the cemetary begging Deedle's grave for forgiveness. But Deedle's up in heaven laughing at him with the angels.

And the Lesson: Don't ever kill your brother or your sister, how about try that.

2 Naked Gnomes for Shoemaker Bob

Once there was a hard-working shoemaker named Bob. Times were hard, and Bob found that he couldn't earn much money with his old gnarly hands. He had lots of faith though, and he cheated nobody, and every night he went to bed and prayed himself to sleep. At the end of one hard day in his empty shop, Bob cut out the shoe leather for the next morning. He had just enough to make one more pair, so he paid the landlord the last of his savings and went home.

After a very sad salad dinner with his wife Mabel, Bob prayed and fell asleep. The next morning, Bob went down to the shop and sat down to work. The leather was gone, but waiting on the table was a pair of new shoes that didn't have one bad stitch.

They were masterpiece shoes.

Just then, a well-dressed customer came inside to try on the shoes and then paid top dollar when they fit. Extra money meant more leather for at least two more pairs, PLUS some Vienna sausages for Mabel, who loved them so much, that she named her bony cats Hormel and Armor.

Bob ran upstairs and went to bed early, and then discovered two more pairs waiting in the shop the next morning. More buyers paid more money that would buy enough leather for four more pairs (and three more cans for Mabel). As he'd done before, he cut out the work overnight only to find it done by morning. And as it went on, Bob's shoe business thrived.

Then, on Christmas Eve, he and Mabel decided to spy on who was doing his work. They hid in a corner of the shop to wait. At midnight, two naked shoe gnomes -- well, them two naked gnomes began stitching and tapping the leather so fast, that Bob pooted a little poot from very happy feelings when sixteen pairs sat on the table. Mabel shoved a sausage into her mouth after they disappeared and said that she was going to make them clothes to keep off the cold. Deep down inside, I bet she was just grossed out.

On Christmas morning, Mabel made shirts, coats and pants as Bob made them shoes. They laid out the little clothes and waited in the corner for them naked gnomes. And later, when they saw the clothes, they dressed and sang and danced out the door, and then disappeared into the snowy Christmas night. Bob and Mabel never saw them again, but for as long as they lived, things were good. They just never ate that brand of Vienna sausages again.

And I think that's a good lesson:

If you see two naked gnomes making you pairs of shoes for no real reason in the middle of the night, better check the expiration dates on your canned goods. You just might have a touch of botulism that's making you see crazy things.

That's what I always say.

Mama Holly

A widow named Old Betsy had two daughters. Lily was beautiful and industrious. Frogzilla was ugly and lazy. Old Betsy favored Frogzilla because she was her own daughter and made Lily do all the work and be the Cinderella of the house. Every day, poor Lily had to sit by a well next to the highway. I don't know why, but she had to spin wool there. So much so that her fingers bled. Now it happened that one day the reel of wool was completely bloody, which is very gross, so Lily dipped it into the well to wash it off, but it dropped out of her hand and fell in.

She cried to her stepmother and told her of the accident. But mean Old Betsy scolded, "Since you have let the reel fall in, you have to fetch it out again." Frogilla laughed and laughed her ugly old ribbet laugh.

Lily went back to the well, and did not know what to do. Terrified, she jumped into the well to get the reel. She lost her senses. And when she awoke and came to herself again, she was in a beautiful meadow where the sun was shining, and there were many thousands of flowers. After an accidental picnic with a dancy baby elephant, some jumping baby goats, and a Lamb with a bone horn, Lily walked across the dreamy meadow.

She came to an oven full of bread. The bread said, "Oh, take me out. Take me out, or I'll burn. I've been thoroughly baked for a long time." With a baker's peel, Lily took everything out, one loaf after the other. After that she walked until she came to a tree filled with apples. "Shake me. Shake me. We apples are all ripe," cried the tree. So she shook the tree until it was raining apples, and when none were left in the tree, she gathered them into a pile and went on her way. Finally Lily came to a small house where an old woman was peering out from inside.

The old woman called out to her, "Don't be afraid, child. Stay here with me, and if you do my housework in an orderly fashion, it will go well with you. Only you must take care to make my bed well and shake it diligently until the feathers fly, then it will snow in the world. I am Mama Holly." Because Mama Holly spoke so kindly to her, Lily agreed and started in her service. She took care of everything to Mama Holly's satisfaction and always shook her featherbed until the feathers flew about like snowflakes. It was a good life: no angry words and boiled vegetables and baked bread every day.

After Lily had been with Mama Holly for a time, she got sad and homesick. Even though she was better off here than at home, she wanted to go back. Finally she said to the old woman, "I miss my cruel step mom and ugly step sister, and even though I am very well off here, I am crazy and can't stay."

Mama Holly said, "Because you have served me so faithfully, I will take you back myself." With that she took Lily by the hand and led her to a large gate. The gate was opened, and while Lily was standing under it, an immense rain of gold fell, and all the gold stuck to her, so that she was completely covered with it. "This is yours because you've worked so hard," said Mama Holly, who gave her the blood-free spinning reel that fell into the well.

With that, Lily found herself on the earth above and not far from her step mother's house. And as Lily entered the yard, the rooster cried, "Cock-a-doodle-doo, our golden girl is here anew."

Lily went inside, and as she arrived all covered with gold, she was well received by Old Betsy and Frogzilla. Lily told what had happened, and Old Betsy wanted the same fortune for her ugly and lazy daughter. She made Frogzilla sit by the well and spin.

To make her reel bloody, Frogzilla pricked her fingers and shoved her hand into a thorn bush. Then she threw the reel into the well, and jumped in herself. Like Lily, she too came to the beautiful meadow and walked along the same path. When she came to the oven, the bread cried, "Oh, take me out. Take me out, or else I'll burn. I've been thoroughly baked for a long time." But Froggie answered, "As if I would want to get all dirty," and walked away. Soon she came to the apple tree, which cried out, "Oh, shake me. Shake me. We apples are all ripe." But she answered, "Oh yes, one could fall on my head," and with that she walked on.

When she came to Mama Holly's house, Frogzilla immediately began to work for her. On the first day she forced herself to be industrious and obeyed Mama Holly because she was thinking about all that gold. But on the second day she was feeling lazy. On the third day it was even more so. She didn't even want to get up in the morning. Frogzilla did not make the bed for Mama Holly and did not shake it until the feathers flew. Mama Holly was done with Frogzilla.

This was just what the lazy girl wanted, for she thought that she would now get the rain of gold.

Mama Holly led her to the gate. Froggie stood beneath it, but instead of gold, a large kettle full of black gooey road tar spilled over her head. "That's for your services," said Mama Holly, and closed the gate.

When the lazy girl went home covered with goop, the rooster on the well laughed and said, "Cock-a-doodle-doo, our dirty girl is home too." And for as long as she lived, Frogzilla was covered in goopy, nasty tar.

The Mouse, the Bird & the Sausage

Once upon a time, there was a mouse, a bird, and a sausage.

They were best friends and bought a house together, a little cottage, and they lived very well and were happy. They always did their chores. Every day, Tommy the Bird flew into the forest to fetch wood. Every day, Mary the Mouse carried in water from the well, made the fire, and set the table. Xavier the Sausage did all the cooking because he could jump into the pot of vegetables and get his sausage juice into the food for tasty, buttery dinners.

Yummy, but very weird.

They did this for a year, not complaining and always doing chores. One day, Tommy the Bird met another bird in the forest. They talked and gossiped and had good bird chat times until the stranger bird told Tommy something that changed his happy life. "You're working harder than the other two in your house. And I bet their chores take only a very short time while your job takes a few hours." And then the bird told Tommy to not be such a loser servant birdy for a freaky mutant sausage and lazy pampered mouse.

Tommy flew home with the wood, he thought about how it didn't seem fair. "I bet Mary the Mouse carried in the water and napped the rest of the day. She doesn't have to make fire or set the table until I get home. And Xavier the Sausage doesn't do anything but watch the pot cook and roll his fat greasy body on the hot food. So, while I'm out getting wood, they just wait for me to bring it home all by myself."

The next day, Tommy said that he'd been their servant long enough. He was no longer going to haul the wood and that everyone would try a different chore for a change. Mary and Xavier argued against it, but Tommy convinced them to give it a try.

So, Xavier Sausage went to get the wood, Mary Mouse got the vegetables ready for cooking, and Tommy Bird carried the water and waited to make the fire when Xavier got back.

You know what happened?

Xavier stayed out so long that Tommy and Mary worried that something bad had happened. Tommy flew off to see if he could find their friend, and just a little distance away he saw a dog sitting on a pile of kindling eating a sausage. Tommy tried to see if it wasn't too late, but the dog finished off poor Xavier and jumped for Tommy.

Filled with a whole bunch of guilty sadness for killing his friend with a stupid idea, Tommy the Bird carried the wood home himself when the dog left the pile. Mary the Mouse cried a lot when Tommy told her what happened. They were very sad, but were gonna stay together and make the best of it.

They were hungry, so the bird set the table while Mary tried to cook, which was something she'd never done herself. She used to watch Xavier sometimes, and thinking of how the sausage did it, she jumped into the pot to flavor the vegetables until her hair and skin were scalded off so bad that she died in the dinner.

Dumb Tommy finished setting the table and noticed little Mary Mouse was gone. Beside himself, he threw the wood this way and that, called out and looked everywhere, but no mouse. He did manage to start a fire that made the house all flamey, and when he tried to put it out with the vegetable pot, he saw poor dead bald Mary Mouse in there and freaked out, rushing to the well to fetch more water as the roof fell in.

Well, Tommy dropped the bucket on his head, fell into the well, and drowned. And there's not a lesson either, not like an Aesop's fable.

Maybe the lesson is not to write dumb stories about sausages and stupid birds that kill their friends.

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