Fairy Tales for Little Folks Read online

  FOR MY MOTHER,

  who read these stories to me when I was a little kid

  VIKING

  Penguin Young Readers Group

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, New York 10014

  First published in the United States of America by Viking,

  an imprint of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2015

  Copyright © 2015 by Will Moses

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE

  ISBN: 978-0-698-18280-6

  The paintings for this book were rendered in oil on Fabriano cold press art paper.

  Version_1

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Little Red Riding Hood

  Rumpelstiltskin

  Snow White

  Puss in Boots

  Beauty and the Beast

  On Reading Fairy Tales

  LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

  There was a pretty young girl who lived in a village not far from here, who was deeply loved by all her family, but no one loved her more than her grandmother. It was the grandmother who made the red velvet riding coat, a coat that suited the child so perfectly and was worn so often that the little girl became known about the village as Little Red Riding Hood.

  Come rain or come shine, Red Riding Hood would trip through the nearby woods to visit her grandmother. And every time she went, Red’s mother would tell her to be cautious in the dark forest. “Stay on the path,” she’d say, “and never talk to strangers.”

  Now, one morning, word came that poor Grandmother was sick in bed. So when Red set out for a visit to Grandmother’s house on this day, Red’s mother handed her a basket filled with tasty pies and a pot of herbal tea, saying, “Now, Red, run along to Grandmother’s house and bring her this basket of treats. But stay on the path and, mind, do not talk to strangers!”

  Mother did not know that a wolf had been seen in the woods only the day before!

  Red Riding Hood scampered through the forest, offering cheery hellos to the chipmunks, deer, and birds as she skipped along, always staying to the path.

  Suddenly, she rounded a bend in the path, and there leaning against a tree was a finely dressed gentleman. Or was it? No! No! It was the tricky old wolf, dressed as a gentleman! But Little Red Riding Hood could not know this, for the disguise was quite clever. The wolf had tucked his bushy tail down his trouser leg and was dressed in his best black boots and top hat. Disguised so well was he that even a more knowing eye might have been fooled.

  Now, as you probably know, most wolves would have simply chased the little girl right then and there, in hopes of a quick meal. But even though his stomach gave a growl, for he had not eaten in three days, this wolf was a crafty fellow. “Little Red Riding Hood,” he said. “My goodness, you have never been lovelier than you are today.”

  “Why thank you, sir,” Red replied, forgetting all the warnings her mother had given her.

  “Where are you off to this fine day?” asked the old wolf politely.

  “To Grandmother’s house to bring her some pies and tea, for she is sick in bed.”

  “Oh dear, dear, dear,” clucked the old villain. But, just as greedy as he was clever, he thought to himself, Why, I can have them both, the child and the grandmother, and enjoy pie and tea for dessert!

  “You know, Red,” he said, “when my grandmother is sick, I bring her flowers. It always cheers her up. Maybe your grandmother would enjoy some of those pretty flowers growing over there in the meadow.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Red said.

  But as soon as Red began to pick the prettiest flowers she could find, the wolf slipped away into the dark woods, hightailing it to Grandmother’s house.

  Soon the scoundrel was nosing about Grandmother’s yard, checking to make sure he was not seen. Then, knock, knock, the wolf knocked on the cottage door.

  “Who is it?” said a creaky voice from within.

  The wolf said sweetly, “Grandmother, it is me, Red Riding Hood, here to bring you some treats from home to make you well again.”

  “Lift the latch, dear, and come in. I am in my bed.”

  In skulked the wolf. Quickly looking Grandmother over, he gave a mighty pounce, and in an instant he had gobbled her up!

  And just as quick, he had slipped on her nightshirt and cap and pulled the bedcovers snug around his chin, for he knew Red Riding Hood would be along soon.

  Sure enough, the wily wolf had only just settled into the feather bed, happily thinking that the young one would certainly be tastier than the old one, when he heard a rap on the door. “Who is it?” he said in his best Grandmother voice.

  “It is your granddaughter, Red Riding Hood. I have brought you tea and pie.”

  “How lovely! Lift the latch and come to my bedroom,” the old wolf answered.

  Red Riding Hood did as she was told, but as she approached, she noticed Grandmother appeared—well—odd. “Oh, Granny dear, what has happened?” said Red. “Your ears are so big!”

  “All the better to hear you with, my dear,” said the wolf.

  “But Granny, your eyes are so black and big!”

  “All the better to see you with, my sweet.”

  “Yes, Granny, yes, but your hands are so big and furry!”

  “All the better to hold you with, my dear,” replied the wolf.

  “But oh, Granny, your teeth, they are so big and sharp!”

  “ALL THE BETTER TO EAT YOU WITH, MY DEAR!” the wolf snarled, then leapt from the bed and swallowed Little Red whole.

  Now, as I said, the wolf was a greedy creature, and not having eaten in three days, he eagerly topped off his great feast with the pie and tea. Soon though, he was full to bursting. His belly bulged as it had never bulged before, and he lay back on the soft bed and began to snore.

  In fact, the wolf made such an alarming snoring noise that when a woodcutter walked by the cottage that evening, he entered to see if Grandmother was all right.

  There, he discovered what had happened and was about to hit the wicked wolf a blow with his ax when he thought better of it. He took up a pair of a sharp scissors from the nearby table and, snip, snip, cut the wolf’s big belly open. The wolf was so soundly asleep that he never stirred. Out popped Red Riding Hood, with Grandmother close behind, neither of them, it seemed, the worse for the experience.

  The nasty old wolf, still asleep, snored on.

  “What shall I do with the brute?” asked the woodcutter.

  “Kill him and skin him,” Grandmother snapped.

  “Oh no!” said Red Riding Hood. “I have a better idea.” And with that, she crept out the door and returned with a basket full of stones. Carefully the three piled all the stones into the wolf’s belly and, using some of Grandmother’s sewing thread, stitched the hairy belly up as good as new.

  And, with a brisk kick from Grandmother, the wolf jolted awake, made a lunge for the door, and fell flat. With his belly full of stones, the wicked old wolf would never leap high, or run fast, or bother little children ever again.

  RUMPELSTILTSKIN

  Once upon
a time, in a distant kingdom, there was a hardworking but very poor miller who, as it happened, had a very clever and beautiful daughter. Now, one day the king came by, and to make himself seem important, the foolish miller said, “Sir, my daughter can spin straw into gold!”

  The king doubted that. “Hmm,” he said, “then bring your daughter to the castle in the morning, and I shall see for myself.”

  The next morning, as the sun rose bright, the miller’s daughter was led into a room in the castle. Shocks of straw were stacked about, and in the midst of it all was a spinning wheel. The king said, “Your father told me you can spin gold from straw. Good, then. Spin all of this straw into gold by the day’s end. If you fail, you will meet a terrible fate!” He slammed the door shut and locked it with a key. “I will be back in the morning to see for myself.”

  The miller’s daughter burst into tears, for she was alone and scared and knew nothing of spinning straw into gold! But as she sat weeping, the locked door creaked open and a strange little man appeared.

  “Good morning, Mistress Miller, why do you weep so?”

  “Oh,” she said. “I am commanded to spin this pile of straw into gold, but I don’t know how, and I fear what will happen if I don’t.”

  The strange little man asked, “What will you give me if I spin it for you, mistress?”

  “My . . . my . . . necklace!” she said.

  The odd little fellow snatched the necklace away and began spinning the straw. Whirr, whirr, whirr, he spun the wheel and the straw so fast, the room was soon filled with gold.

  As the sun rose the next morning, the king appeared as promised and was amazed to find all the straw had been spun into gold. Oh, he was pleased, but he was also greedy. “Bring more straw to the cell,” he ordered his servants. To the miller’s daughter, he said again, “Spin this into gold by the day’s end or you will meet a terrible fate.”

  Once again, the maiden broke down in tears, but just as the day before, the odd little man appeared. “What will you give me this time to do your work?” he grumbled.

  “My . . . my . . . my ring,” the maid said, and again he snatched it from her and commenced to spin the straw into shining gold until the chamber was full.

  When the sun rose and the rooster crowed, the king strode into the dungeon and was once again delighted to see all the gold. Now, though, his lust for gold had grown. He commanded more straw to be brought to the cell, but he also thought, I should make this girl my wife. She is only a peasant, but she is lovely and has riches beyond imagining.

  So he said to her, “Spin straw into gold one last time, and I will marry you and make you my own queen.” And with that, he slammed the door and once again locked it with a key.

  Ah, but just as it had happened on the two days before, the strange little man appeared and asked what the maiden would give him if he spun gold one last time.“You have it all, sir. I have nothing left to give you.”

  “Well, then,” he grumbled. “Promise me your firstborn child when you marry and become queen!”

  What a terrible idea! But she couldn’t think of any other way to save herself, so she agreed. The odd little man once again made the spinning wheel spin, whirr, whirr, whirr, and, surely by some magic, turned the piles of straw into piles of gold. In the morning as the rooster crowed, the king appeared, and so delighted was he that, true to his word, he married the beautiful girl before the day was done.

  When a year had passed and the new queen gave birth to a precious baby girl, any thought of the odd little man and her promise to him had disappeared from her mind. But the little man had not forgotten. One day, as suddenly as he had appeared to spin gold, he appeared in the queen’s chamber. “Now you must give me your firstborn child!”

  The queen sobbed. Not her precious little baby girl. She offered the little man all the riches the kingdom had to offer instead. “No,” he replied. “Nothing is more precious to me than your child.”

  Now the young mother began to weep so hard that even the odd little man began to feel sorry for her. “All right then, Queen. If in three days’ time you can guess my name, I will let you keep the child.”

  All night the queen tried to remember names she had heard, from books or the Bible or people in the castle. She sent a messenger out into the countryside to learn names she’d never heard of. At the end of the first day, the odd little man was back, and the queen began to recite names. She began with Kasparac, Melchiro, and Salsimic, went on to Feifer and Fester and Fawley, and so on until her list was spent. To each he danced wildly, shouting wickedly, “No, no, no!”

  On the second day, the queen ordered the messenger to travel farther, even into a neighboring kingdom. Once again, the odd little man appeared, and once again, the queen recited her list of names. “Is it Jethro? Perhaps Cabadrusis? Ah, surely it is Henry or Horton or Harrowhead?” and to these names and many more, the reply was always “No, no, no!”

  Time was running out! The queen, sick with worry, sent her messenger right over the mountains to a kingdom to which she had never gone. He learned not a single new name! But he did happen upon a little man, near a peculiar mountainside cottage, jumping about a bonfire and singing:

  “Today I brew, tomorrow I bake.

  Soon I’ll fetch the queen’s namesake.

  Oh, how easy it is to play my game,

  for Rumpelstiltskin is my name!”

  That had to be it! The messenger rushed back to the castle. The queen broke out in her own dance.

  At the end of that third day, the little man appeared, cocky and sure of his prize. “What is my name, Highness?” he asked.

  “Is your name Felix? Durwood? Donington, Chaucer, or Charington?” The little man shook his head wildly and delightedly. Then the queen leaned forward. “Well, then, is your name, perhaps . . . Rumpelstiltskin?”

  The little man flew into a rage. “The devil told you! The devil told you!” he cried, all the while stomping so violently that he stomped right through the floor and fell into a hole below. And when he was in over his hat, he reached up and pulled the boards down upon himself. And he never bothered the queen or her precious baby again.

  SNOW WHITE

  One winter’s eve when the snowflakes fell like feathers from the sky, a queen gave birth to a little child, white as the falling snow. She called her “my little Snow White.”

  Sadly, shortly after, the queen died, and the next summer the king took a new wife. She was beautiful, but proud and vain, and flew into a rage if anyone was ever compared to her in beauty. In fact, she would stand before her magic mirror and ask:

  “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

  who in the land is the fairest of all?”

  Faithfully the mirror would answer:

  “You, my queen, you are the fairest of all.”

  She was pleased, because she knew the mirror spoke only the truth.

  Now, as children do, Snow White grew up. And by the time she was seven or eight years old, she, too, was remarkably beautiful. Some even whispered, “More beautiful than the queen.”

  And one day when the queen asked the mirror:

  “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

  who in the land is the fairest of all?”

  the reply came:

  “Queen, you are lovely, it is true.

  But Snow White is a thousand times lovelier than you.”

  The queen turned green with rage. And from that time on, hatred for Snow White grew within her like a worm, until finally the queen could stand it no more and ordered her huntsman to take Snow White to the deepest forest and kill her.

  The huntsman took Snow

  White away as he was commanded, but found he did not have the will to harm the beautiful child. And so he let her go, making her promise that she would run to the heart of the forest and never return home. Wild animals might tear her limb from limb, but he would
not be the one to kill her.

  Snow White did as she promised, running off through the dark woods. Through thorn bushes and across chilly streams, over slippery rocks and fallen trees she ran, avoiding bears and wolves, until, as luck would have it, she happened upon a little cottage in the woods.

  Snow White knocked at the door three times, and on the third the door fell open and in she went. Everything was so clean and orderly: seven little beds, crisp and clean; a table, with seven plates and seven mugs of wine, as well as bread, butter, cheese, and vegetables in bowls. From each mug she sipped a little wine, and from each plate she ate a little bread and cheese and some vegetables. Then she lay down to rest.

  As darkness fell, the owners of the cottage returned home—seven dwarfs, coming back from their gold mine in the hills, where they worked each day prying bits of gold from the rocks. As soon as they came in and lit their candles, they knew someone had been in their home. And when they looked around, the largest dwarf found Snow White in his bed, fast asleep!

  They were all crowded around the bed when suddenly Snow White opened her eyes. She was frightened out of her wits at seeing the little men, but she realized they were friendly.

  “What’s your name?” asked one bearded fellow.