There WAS ONCE UPON A TIME an old woman who wanted an apple dumpling for supper. She had plenty of flour and plenty of butter, plenty of sugar and plenty of spice for a dozen dumplings, but there was one thing she did not have; and that was apples.
She had plums, a tree full of them, the roundest and reddest that you can imagine; but, though you can make butter from cream and raisins of grapes, you cannot make an apple dumpling with plums, and there is no use trying.
The more the old woman thought of the dumpling the more she wanted it, and at last she dressed herself in her finest clothes and started out to seek a basket of apples.
Before she left home, however, she filled a basket with plums from her plum-tree and covering it over with a white cloth, hung it on her arm, for she said to herself: "There may be those in the world who have apples, and need plums."
She had not gone very far when she came to a poultry yard filled with fine hens and geese and guineas. Ca-ca, quawk, quawk, poterack! What a noise they made; and in the midst of them stood a young woman who was feeding them with yellow corn. She nodded pleasantly to the old woman, and the old woman nodded to her, and soon the two were talking as if they had known each other always.
The young woman told the old woman about her fowls and the old woman told the young woman about the apple dumpling and the basket of plums for which she hoped to get apples.
"Dear me," said the young woman when she heard this, "there is nothing my husband likes better than plum jelly with goose, but unless you will take a bag of feathers for your plums he must do without, for that is the best I can offer you."
"One pleased is better than two disappointed," said the old woman. And she emptied the plums into the young woman's apron and putting the bag of feathers into her basket trudged on as merrily as before; for she said to herself: "If I am no nearer the dumpling than when I left home, I am at least no farther from it; and that feathers are lighter to carry than plums nobody can deny."
Trudge, trudge, up hill and down she went, and presently she came to a garden of sweet flowers: lilies, lilacs, violets, roses --oh, never was there a lovelier garden.
The old woman stopped at the gate to admire the flowers; and as she looked she heard a man and a woman quarreling.
"Cotton," said the woman. "Straw," said the man. "'Tis not--" "'Tis!" they cried, and so it went between them, till they spied the old woman at the gate.
"Here is one who will settle the matter," said the woman then; and she called to the old woman: "Good mother, answer me this: If you were making a cushion for your grandfather's chair would you not stuff it with cotton?"
"No," said the old woman.
"I told you so," cried the man. "Straw is the thing, and ye need to go farther than the barn for it;" but the old woman shook her hand.
"I would not stuff the cushion with straw, either," said she, and it would have been hard to tell which one was the more cast down by her answer, the man or the woman. But the old woman made haste to take the bag of feathers out of her basket, and give it to them.
"A feather cushion is fit for a king," she said, "and as for me, an apple for a dumpling, or a bouquet from your garden will serve me as well as what I give."
The man and the woman had no apples, but they were glad to exchange a bouquet from their garden of the loveliest flowers; lilies, lilacs, roses--oh! never was there a sweeter bouquet.
"A good bargain, and not all of it in the basket," said the old woman, for she was pleased to have stopped the quarrel, and when she had wished the two good fortune and a long life, she went upon her way.
Now her way was the king's highway, and as she walked there she met a young lord who was dressed in his finest clothes, for he was going to see his lady love. He would have been as handsome a young man as ever the sun shone on had it not been that his forehead was wrinkled into a terrible frown, and the corners of his mouth drawn down as if he had not a friend left in the whole world.
"A fair day and a good road," said the old woman, stopping to drop him a curtsey.
"Fair or foul, good or bad, 'tis all the same to me," said he, "when the court jeweler has forgotten to send the ring he promised, and I must go to my lady with empty hands."
"So you shall have a gift for your lady," said the old woman, "though I may never have an apple dumpling." And she took the bouquet from her basket and gave it to the young lord which pleased him so much that the frown smoothed away from his forehead, and his mouth spread itself in a smile, and he was as handsome a young man as ever the sun shone on.
"Fair exchange is no robbery," said he, and he unfastened a golden chain from round his neck and gave it to the old woman, and went away holding his bouquet with great care.
The old woman was delighted.
"With this golden chain I might buy all the apples in the king's market, and then have something to spare," she said to herself, as she hurried away toward town as fast as her feet could carry her.
But she had gone no farther than the turn of the road when she came upon a mother and children, standing in a doorway, whose faces were as sorrowful as her own was happy.
"What is the matter?" she asked as soon as she reached them.
"Matter enough," answered the mother, "when the last crust of bread is eaten and not a farthing in the house to buy more."
"Well-a-day," cried the old woman when this was told her. "Never shall it be said of me that I eat apple dumpling for supper while my neighbors lack bread," and she put the golden chain into the mother's hands and hurried on without waiting for thanks.
She was not out of sight of the house, though, when the mother and children, every one of them laughing and talking merrily, overtook her.
"Little have we to give you," said the mother who was the happiest of all, "for that you have done for us, but here is a little dog, whose barking will keep loneliness from your house, and our thanks goes with it."
The old woman did not have the heart to tell them no, so into the basket went the little dog, and very snugly he lay there.
"A bag of feathers for a basket of plums; a bouquet of flowers for a bag of feathers; a golden chain for a bouquet of flowers; a dog for a golden chain; all the world is give and take, and who knows but that I may have my apple dumpling yet," said the old woman as she hurried on.
And sure enough she had not gone a half dozen yards when, right before her, she saw an apple tree as full of apples as her plum tree was full of plums. It grew in front of a house as much like her own as if the two were peas in the same pod; and on the porch of the house sat a little old man.
"A fine tree of apples," called the old woman as soon as she was in speaking distance of him.
"Aye, but apple trees and apples are poor company when a man is growing old," said the old man, "and I would give them all if I had even so much as a little dog to bark on my door-step."
"Bow-wow," called the dog in the old woman's basket, and in less time than it takes to read this story he was barking on the old man's door-step, and the old woman was on her way home with a basket of apples on her arm.
"If you try long enough and hard enough, you can always have an apple dumpling for supper," said the old woman, and she ate the dumpling to the very last crumb. And how she enjoyed it, too!
Apple Dumplings
RECIPE INGREDIENTS: 1/4 cup raisins 1/4 cup dried, sweetened cranberries 1/4 cup chopped walnuts 1/2 tsp. cinnamon 1/2 tsp. nutmeg Premade pastry for an 8- or 9-inch 2 crust pie 4 small, cored baking apples 1 cup brown sugar 1 cup water
Directions: 1. Combine the raisins, cranberries, walnuts and spices in a bowl and set aside.
2. On a lightly floured cloth-covered surface, roll out the pastry into a 14-inch square, then cut it into 4 squares.
3. Place a cored apple on top of each square and fill the center with the raisin and cranberry mix.
4. Cover each apple with its pastry square by bringing the opposite corners up over the fruit and pinching them together. Then, seal together all of the pastry edges, moistening them with water if needed.
5. Place the dumplings in a glass baking dish.
6. In a saucepan, bring the brown sugar and water to a boil, and then pour it over the dumplings (a parent's job).
7. Bake in a preheated 425 degree oven, spooning the syrup over the dumplings a few times, until the crust is golden (about 40 minutes).
A number of flies were attracted to a jar of honey which had been overturned and placing their feet in it, ate greedily.
While eating, however, they became so smeared with the honey that they could not use their wings, nor release themselves, and they soon died.
As they were dying, they exclaimed, "O foolish creatures that we are, for the sake of a little pleasure we have destroyed ourselves."
Moral: Pleasure bought with pains, hurts_or_Too much of a good thing can be bad.
Both of these recipes are really simple and great for younger children.
No Bake Honey Crispies
Ingredients 1/2 cup powdered sugar 1/2 cup peanut butter 1/2 cup honey 1-1/2 cups crisp rice cereal 1/2 cup raisins 1/2 cup chocolate or multicolored sprinkles
Directions Place a sheet of waxed paper on a cookie sheet so cookies won't stick. Combine powdered sugar, honey and peanut butter in a medium bowl. Stir until mixed well. Stir in cereal and raisins. Using hands, shape mixture into 1-inch balls. Roll balls in sprinkles and place on a cookie sheet. Refrigerate for 1 hour. Cookies should feel firm when touched. Serve right away or place in tightly covered container and store in refrigerator
Once upon a time, the sixth son of King Hung Vuong the Fifth named An-Tiem disobeyed the King's order and was exiled to a deserted island.
The Prince had to build his own shelter, dig a well for water, and fish and hunt animals for food. One day, he found a green fruit as big and round as a ball. He split the fruit into halves and found the inside of the fruit red. He dared not eat it because he was afraid it was poisonous.
Days passed and the dry and sunny season came. It was so hot that all the plants were dry and the well had no water left. One day An-Tiem was so tired and thirsty that he tasted the fruit He found out that it tasted delicious and quenched his thirst. He tried to grow the plant around his house then. Soon the whole island was covered with the green fruit.
An-Tiem carved the island's name and his own on some of the fruit and threw them into the sea. Later, seamen found the strange fruit with An-Tiem's name floating in the sea.
Soon, words about the fruit reached the continent and many merchants tried to find the way the island. This then turned the deserted island into a busy island. The island was now crowded. Many boats came and went. An-Tiem helped anyone who wanted settle on the island. Soon, news about that reach the King.
King Hung Vuong was very proud of having a son who was brave and strong enough to overcome difficulties without anyone's help. An-Tiem was immediately summoned back to the court. He brought his fruit with him to offer the King, his father. The King gave him his crown and An-Tiem became King Hung Vuong VI.
Since then the fruit which was called "dua hau" and has become the symbol of luck; people often offer it to relatives and friends as a New Year present.
Summers almost over so rush out and get those watermelon!! Watermelon Dippers
Ingredients 8 ounces sour cream 4 tablespoons sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Watermelon stix or small wedges
Instructions Blend together the sour cream, sugar and vanilla in a small serving bowl. Use as a dip for the watermelon.
Preparation: Place watermelon in a large bowl; cover and freeze. Place half of frozen watermelon, half of powdered sugar, and half of concentrate in a blender, and process until smooth. Do the same procedure with the other half of the ingredients. Serve while cold.
Long ago and far away across the wide blue sea, there lived a hard working old man and old woman. One day, the old man went up into the mountains to gatherwood. When he sat down to eat his lunch, one of his rice balls tumbled away. Down the slope of the mountain it tumbled until it finally rolled into a large hole. The old man chased after the rice ball and stopped at the hole. He bent down to look inside and from within the hole he heard a soft song.
A Rice ball tumbling suttenton A Rice ball tumbling suttenton
The old man was very excited, so he climbed back up the mountain, picked up another rice ball and rolled it away. Down it tumbled into the hole. When he crouched down near the hole he heard the song once more.
A Rice ball tumbling suttenton A Rice ball tumbling suttenton
The old man peeked into the hole, but as he did he overbalanced and tumbled right into the hole itself. As he tumbled he heard another song.
An Old man tumbling suttenton An Old man tumbling suttenton
In the hole was a mouse world, where hundreds of little mice were happily singing and making rice cakes. "Thank you for the rice balls, kind sir. We will treat you to a feast to repay your kindness. Come and join us in our song," they called. And so the old man and the mice sang,
A Rice ball tumbling suttenton A Rice ball tumbling suttenton
An Old man tumbling suttenton An Old man tumbling suttenton
Little mice tumbling suttenton Little mice tumbling suttenton
The old man had a wonderful time singing and dancing with the mice. "Thank you for the feast, but now it is time for me to go home,” he said. “Wait, old man,” said the smallest mouse, and he gave him a box. “Here is our gift to you.” When the old man returned home, he opened the box and was astounded to find it filled with money and treasure.
“There are enough riches to last us all our days,” the old man said to the old woman. And they were very happy for the rest of their lives.
However, when the old man told his story to a greedy, old neighbour, the greedy, old man thought he would do exactly the same thing, so that he too could receive a fortune from the mice world. He immediately went into the mountains and dropped two rice balls into the hole, then tumbled in himself.
A rice ball tumbling suttenton A rice ball tumbling suttenton
An old man tumbling suttenton
Hundreds of mice were happily singing and making rice cakes. After the greedy old man entered the mouse world, he decided to chase away the mice and keep all of the treasures for himself. So he pretended to be a cat and began to miaow. "Miaow,miaow." The frightened little mice scattered every which way and disappeared.
Just as the greedy, old man thought he could now take all the treasure, everything went black. He realized that the money and treasure had vanished with the mice and now he was left with nothing. Not even a rice ball. Only after a long time scrabbling around on his hands and knees in the darkness, was he able to find the entrance to the hole and leave the mouse world.
Since that time, no one has ever found the mouse world again. Although sometimes, if you are walking high up in the mountains of Japan, you may hear this song carried by the wind.
A Rice ball tumbling suttenton,suttenton,suttenton…
Rice balls are called onigiri in Japan. Rice balls are usually shaped into rounds or triangles and often wrapped in nori(edible seaweed). Traditionally, an onigiri is filled with pickled ume (fruit similar to a plum or apricot), salted salmon or any other salty or sour ingredient. Onigiri is not a form of sushi. Onigiri is made with plain rice, sometimes lightly salted, while sushi is made of rice with sugar and vinegar added to it.
Warning!!! "Regular" rice will not work. You need "sushi/japanese" rice. Really!!!
I learned this song at Camp Togowoods in Wasilla, Alaska which is not very far from Anchorage. This is an echo song. First you, the leader sings, then the children repeat, echo, your words and movements. Hmm... I will have to add the movements later**smile**.
The Moose
There was a great big moose. (echo) He liked to drink a lot of juice. (echo) There was a great big moose. (echo) He liked to drink a lot of juice. (echo)
Chorus (each line is also echoed): Say waaaaay-Oh Way-oh, way-oh, way-oh, way-oh Way-oh, way-oh Way-oh, way-oh, way-oh, way-oh
The moose's name was Fred. (echo) He liked to drink his juice in bed. (echo) The moose's name was Fred. (echo) He liked to drink his juice in bed. (echo)
Chorus
He drank his juice with care. (echo) But he spilled some on his hair. (echo) He drank his juice with care. (echo) But he spilled some on his hair. (echo)
Chorus
Now he’s a sticky moose (echo) Full of juice (echo) On the looooooooooooooose (echo)
Chorus
This song can be found with different verses all over the net. It is sung by scouts and at other children's camps.
This is an "okay" version of the song although there are missing verses and the tune and movements are a little different. But you'll get the idea.
Juice Facts: Squeezed fruit is as healthy as eating a piece of raw fruit out of your hand. Unlike many people think there is not a whole lot of fruit flesh lost when you squeeze fruit. This means that your glass of orange juice does contain all the fibers you need!
Watermelon Juice Ingredients: 2 cups chopped seeded watermelon 1 cup crushed ice 2 teaspoons honey
Directions: 1) Combine watermelon, ice and honey in a blender. 2) Blend until smooth. 3) Serve chilled (Stir well before serving).
Moose Juice (they really like fruit :P )
Ingredients 2 1/2 cups grapefruit juice 1 1/2 cups orange juice 2 medium firm bananas, cut up and frozen 6 to 8 frozen unsweetened strawberries
Directions: 1)Place all of the ingredients in a blender. Process until smooth. 2)Pour into a pitcher. 3)Serve immediately.
There was a woman once, and she had three daughters. The first daughter squinted with both eyes, yet the woman loved her as she loved salt, for she herself squinted with both eyes. The second daughter had one shoulder higher than the other, and eyebrows as black as soot in the chimney, yet the woman loved her as well as she loved the other, for she herself had black eyebrows and one shoulder higher than the other. The youngest daughter was as pretty as a ripe apple, and had hair as fine as silk and the color of pure gold, but the woman loved her not at all, for, as I have said, she herself was neither pretty, nor had she hair of the color of pure gold. Why all this was so, even Hans Pfifendrummel cannot tell, though he has read many books and one over.
The first sister and the second sister dressed in their Sunday clothes every day, and sat in the sun doing nothing, just as though they had been born ladies, both of them.
As for Christine—that was the name of the youngest girl—as for Christine, she dressed in nothing but rags, and had to drive the geese to the hills in the morning and home again in the evening, so that they might feed on the young grass all day and grow fat.
The first sister and the second sister had white bread (and butter beside) and as much fresh milk as they could drink; but Christine had to eat cheese-parings and bread-crusts, and had hardly enough of them to keep Goodman Hunger from whispering in her ear.
This was how the churn clacked in that house!
Well, one morning Christine started off to the hills with her flock of geese, and in her hands she carried her knitting, at which she worked to save time. So she went along the dusty road until, by-and-by, she came to a place where a bridge crossed the brook, and what should she see there but a little red cap, with a silver bell at the point of it, hanging from the alder branch. It was such a nice, pretty little red cap that Christine thought that she would take it home with her, for she had never seen the like of it in all of her life before.
So she put it in her pocket, and then off she went with her geese again. But she had hardly gone two-score of paces when she heard a voice calling her, "Christine! Christine!"
She looked, and who should she see but a queer little gray man, with a great head as big as a cabbage and little legs as thin as young radishes.
"What do you want?" said Christine, when the little man had come to where she was.
Oh, the little man only wanted his cap again, for without it he could not go back home into the hill—that was where he belonged.
But how did the cap come to be hanging from the bush? Yes, Christine would like to know that before she gave it back again.
"The little man asks far his cap."
Well, the little hill-man was fishing by the brook over yonder when a puff of wind blew his cap into the water, and he just hung it up to dry. That was all that there was about it; and now would Christine please give it to him?
Christine did not know how about that; perhaps she would and perhaps she would not. It was a nice, pretty little cap; what would the little underground man give her for it? that was the question.
Oh, the little man would give her five thalers for it, and gladly.
No; five thalers was not enough for such a pretty little cap—see, there was a silver bell hanging to it too.
Well, the little man did not want to be hard at a bargain; he would give her a hundred thalers for it.
No; Christine did not care for money. What else would he give for this nice, dear little cap?
"See, Christine," said the little man, "I will give you this for the cap"; and he showed her something in his hand that looked just like a bean, only it was as black as a lump of coal.
"Yes, good; but what is that?" said Christine.
"That," said the little man, "is a seed from the apple of contentment. Plant it, and from it will grow a tree, and from the tree an apple. Everybody in the world that sees the apple will long for it, but nobody in the world can pluck it but you. It will always be meat and drink to you when you are hungry, and warm clothes to your back when you are cold. Moreover, as soon as you pluck it from the tree, another as good will grow in its place. Now, will you give me my hat?"
Oh yes; Christine would give the little man his cap for such a seed as that, and gladly enough. So the little man gave Christine the seed, and Christine gave the little man his cap again. He put the cap on his head, and—puff!—away he was gone, as suddenly as the light of a candle when you blow it out.
So Christine took the seed home with her, and planted it before the window of her room. The next morning when she looked out of the window she beheld a beautiful tree, and on the tree hung an apple that shone in the sun as though it were pure gold. Then she went to the tree and plucked the apple as easily as though it were a gooseberry, and as soon as she had plucked it another as good grew in its place. Being hungry she ate it, and thought that she had never eaten anything as good, for it tasted like pancake with honey and milk.
By-and-by the oldest sister came out of the house and looked around, but when she saw the beautiful tree with the golden apple hanging from it you can guess how she stared.
Presently she began to long and long for the apple as she had never longed for anything in her life. "I will just pluck it," said she, "and no one will be the wiser for it." But that was easier said than done. She reached and reached, but she might as well have reached for the moon; she climbed and climbed, but she might as well have climbed for the sun—for either one would have been as easy to get as that which she wanted. At last she had to give up trying for it, and her temper was none the sweeter for that, you may be sure.
"Christine's Mother and Sisters wish for the Apple."
After a while came the second sister, and when she saw the golden apple she wanted it just as much as the first had done. But to want and to get are very different things, as she soon found, for she was no more able to get it than the other had been.
Last of all came the mother, and she also strove to pluck the apple. But it was no use. She had no more luck of her trying than her daughters; all that the three could do was to stand under the tree and look at the apple, and wish for it and wish for it.
They are not the only ones who have done the like, with the apple of contentment hanging just above them.
As for Christine, she had nothing to do but to pluck an apple whenever she wanted it. Was she hungry? there was the apple hanging in the tree for her. Was she thirsty? there was the apple. Cold? there was the apple. So you see, she was the happiest girl betwixt all the seven hills that stand at the ends of the earth; for nobody in the world can have more than contentment, and that was what the apple brought her.
II
One day a king came riding along the road, and all of his people with him. He looked up and saw the apple hanging in the tree, and a great desire came upon him to have a taste of it. So he called one of the servants to him, and told him to go and ask whether it could be bought for a potful of gold.
So the servant went to the house, and knocked on the door—rap! tap! tap!
"What do you want?" said the mother of the three sisters, coming to the door.
Oh, nothing much; only a king was out there in the road, and wanted to know if she would sell the apple yonder for a potful of gold.
Yes, the woman would do that. Just pay her the pot of gold and he might go and pluck it and welcome.
So the servant gave her the pot of gold, and then he tried to pluck the apple. First he reached for it, and then he climbed for it, and then he shook the limb.
But it was no use for him to try; he could no more get it—well—than I could if I had been in his place.
At last the servant had to go back to the King. The apple was there, he said, and the woman had sold it, but try and try as he would he could no more get it than he could get the little stars in the sky.
Then the King told the steward to go and get it for him; but the steward, though he was a tall man and a strong man, could no more pluck the apple than the servant.
So he had to go back to the King with an empty fist. No; he could not gather it, either.
Then the King himself went. He knew that he could pluck it—of course he could! Well, he tried and tried; but nothing came of his trying, and he had to ride away at last without, having had so much as a smell of the apple.
After the King came home, he talked and dreamed and thought of nothing but the apple; for the more he could not get it the more he wanted it—that is the way we are made in this world. At last he grew melancholy and sick for want of that which he could not get. Then he sent for one who was so wise that he had more in his head than ten men together. This wise man told him that the only one who could pluck the fruit of contentment for him was the one to whom the tree belonged. This was one of the daughters of the woman who had sold the apple to him for the pot of gold.
When the King heard this he was very glad; he had his horse saddled, and he and his court rode away, and so came at last to the cottage where Christine lived. There they found the mother and the elder sisters, for Christine was away on the hills with her geese.
The King took off his hat and made a fine bow.
The wise man at home had told him this and that; now to which one of her daughters did the apple-tree belong? so said the King.
"Oh, it is my oldest daughter who owns the tree," said the woman.
So, good! Then if the oldest daughter would pluck the apple for him he would take her home and marry her and make a queen of her. Only let her get it for him without delay.
Prut! that would never do. What! was the girl to climb the apple-tree before the King and all of the court? No! no! Let the King go home, and she would bring the apple to him all in good time; that was what the woman said.
Well, the King would do that, only let her make haste, for he wanted it very much indeed.
As soon as the King had gone, the woman and her daughters sent for the goose-girl to the hills. Then they told her that the King wanted the apple yonder, and that she must pluck it for her sister to take to him; if she did not do as they said they would throw her into the well. So Christine had to pluck the fruit; and as soon as she had done so the oldest sister wrapped it up in a napkin and set off with it to the King's house, as pleased as pleased could be. Rap! tap! tap! she knocked at the door. Had she brought the apple for the King?
Oh yes, she had brought it. Here it was, all wrapped up in a fine napkin.
After that they did not let her stand outside the door till her toes were cold, I can tell you. As soon as she had come to the King she opened her napkin. Believe me or not as you please, all the same, I tell you that there was nothing in the napkin but a hard round stone. When the King saw only a stone he was so angry that he stamped like a rabbit and told them to put the girl out of the house. So they did, and she went home with a flea in her ear, I can tell you.
Then the King sent his steward to the house where Christine and her sisters lived.
He told the woman that he had come to find whether she had any other daughters.
Yes; the woman had another daughter, and, to tell the truth, it was she who owned the tree. Just let the steward go home again and the girl would fetch the apple in a little while.
As soon as the steward had gone, they sent to the hills for Christine again. Look! she must pluck the apple for the second sister to take to the King; if she did not do that they would throw her into the well.
So Christine had to pluck it, and gave it to the second sister, who wrapped it up in a napkin and set off for the King's house. But she fared no better than the other, for, when she opened the napkin, there was nothing in it but a lump of mud. So they packed her home again with her apron to her eyes.
After a while the King's steward came to the house again. Had the woman no other daughter than these two?
Well, yes, there was one, but she was a poor ragged thing, of no account, and fit for nothing in the world but to tend the geese.
Where was she?
Oh, she was up on the hills now tending her flock.
But could the steward see her?
Yes, he might see her, but she was nothing but a poor simpleton.
That was all very good, but the steward would like to see her, for that was what the King had sent him there for.
So there was nothing to do but to send to the hills for Christine.
After a while she came, and the steward asked her if she could pluck the apple yonder for the King.
Yes; Christine could do that easily enough. So she reached and picked it as though it had been nothing but a gooseberry on the bush. Then the steward took off his hat and made her a low bow in spite of her ragged dress, for he saw that she was the one for whom they had been looking all this time.
So Christine slipped the golden apple into her pocket, and then she and the steward set off to the King's house together.
When they had come there everybody began to titter and laugh behind the palms of their hands to see what a poor ragged goose-girl the steward had brought home with him. But for that the steward cared not a rap.
"Have you brought the apple?" said the King, as soon as Christine had come before him.
Yes; here it was; and Christine thrust her hand into her pocket and brought it forth. Then the King took a great bite of it, and as soon as he had done so he looked at Christine and thought that he had never seen such a pretty girl. As for her rags, he minded them no more than one minds the spots on a cherry; that was because he had eaten of the apple of contentment.
And were they married? Of course they were! and a grand wedding it was, I can tell you. It is a pity that you were not there; but though you were not, Christine's mother and sisters were, and, what is more, they danced with the others, though I believe they would rather have danced upon pins and needles.
"Never mind," said they; "we still have the apple of contentment at home, though we cannot taste of it." But no; they had nothing of the kind. The next morning it stood before the young Queen Christine's window, just as it had at her old home, for it belonged to her and to no one else in all of the world. That was lucky for the King, for he needed a taste of it now and then as much as anybody else, and no one could pluck it for him but Christine.
Now, that is all of this story. What does it mean? Can you not see? Prut! rub your spectacles and look again!
THE END
I have left this story just as it was written by Howard Pyle in 1886 in his book Pepper and Salt, or Seasoning for Young Folk
I have to admit that I have a few personal issues with some of the old fairytales and folktales because physical beauty is often the sign of a good person and bad folks are often unattractive. Of course, this is not always the case but it is most of the time. Anyway, I decided to give you this one just as it was written. In retelling it to your child you can choose to change it or not. Okay, enough of this....on to the recipe which of course has to have Apples in it!
Baked Apples
4 Apples (your favorite type) 2 teaspoons of cinnamon 1/2 cup of brown sugar 4 tablespoons of butter
3/4 cup of boiling water
Optional: 1/4 cup of raisins or cranberries chopped nuts
Preheat oven to 350degrees.
Adult or older child: Place the apples on a cutting board. With a sharp knife, carefully cut the top 1/2-inch from each apple.
Younger Child: Using an apple corer or a small melon baler, scoop out the stem, core, and seeds from each apple, leaving the bottom intact.
Stand the apples in a 9-inch square baking dish.
In a small bowl, combine the brown sugar, cinnamon and raisins/cranberries if you wish to use them.
Stuff each apple with this mixture. Top with a 1 tablespoon pat of butter.
Add boiling water to the baking pan.
Bake 30-40 minutes, until tender, but not mushy.
Remove from the oven and baste the apples several times with the pan juices.
A farmer's daughter had been out to milk the cows, and was returning to the dairy carrying her pail of milk upon her head. As she walked along, she fell a-musing after this fashion:
The milk in this pail will provide me with cream, which I will make into butter and take to market to sell. With the money I will buy a number of eggs, and these, when hatched, will produce chickens, and by and by I shall have quite a large poultry yard. Then I shall sell some of my fowls, and with the money which they will bring in I will buy myself a new gown, which I shall wear when I go to the fair; and all the young fellows will admire it, and come and make love to me, but I shall toss my head and have nothing to say to them. Forgetting all about the pail, and suiting the action to the word, she tossed her head. Down went the pail, all the milk was spilled, and all her fine castles in the air vanished in a moment!
Moral: Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.
I found this fabulous vid for making Tres Leches(3 milks) Cake. A recipe is below the vid.
Easy Tres Leches Cake
1 yellow cake 9x12 premade from a box mix or your favorite recipe
1 cup whole milk or heavy cream (your choice) 1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk 1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk
1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream 1 cup white sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
DIRECTIONS Use a fork to poke holes in the cake.
Combine the whole milk/heavy cream, condensed milk, and evaporated milk together. Pour over the top of the cooled cake. Use as much as you think is necessary. You want the cake saturated but not to the point that it falls apart. You may not need all of it.
Whip whipping cream, 1 cup sugar, and the remaining 1 teaspoon vanilla together until thick.
Spread over the top of cake. Be sure and keep cake refrigerated.
INGREDIENTS 1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, softened 1 cup mayonnaise (I prefer Miracle Whip) 2 teaspoons OLD BAY® Seasoning 1/2 teaspoon dry Mustard 1 pound lump crabmeat 1/4 cup shredded Cheddar cheese
Your favorite crackers or sliced french bread
DIRECTIONS 1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix cream cheese, mayonnaise, Old Bay and dry mustard in medium bowl until well blended. Add crabmeat; toss gently.
2. Spread in shallow 1 1/2-quart baking dish. Sprinkle with Cheddar cheese and additional Old Bay, if desired.
Once there were three brothers who loved adventure. One day they decided to go on a journey, each one to a different country, and to meet again on a certain day ten years later. Each brother was to bring back with him an unusual gift.
The oldest brother decided to go to the East. When he arrived in a certain Eastern town, he was fascinated by what he saw there: magicians, dancing girls, jugglers, and acrobats were everywhere. As the brother was watching the entertainments, he saw one magician hold up a magic glass through which he could see to the distant corners of the kingdom.
“Ah!” thought the oldest brother, “I would like to have that glass, for that would certainly be an unusual object to share with my brothers.” He asked the magician, “Tell me, how much is that glass? I should like to buy it from you.” At first, the magician would not part with his magic glass, but after much pleading by the older brother, and some bargaining, they agreed upon a price and the magician sold the glass to the oldest brother.
The second brother traveled to a country in the West. Wherever he went, he kept his eyes open, and his mind as well. He was always on the lookout for the most unusual gift he could bring back to his brothers.
One day, he was attracted by the cries of an old carpet seller, who called out, “Carpets for sale! Beautiful! Wonderful! Carpets here!” The brother approached the carpet seller and began to examine his carpets, when suddenly he saw the carpet at the bottom of the pile begin to move. It seemed to be moving by itself! “What kind of carpet is this one?” he asked, pointing to the bottom one, which was quite visible by then.
The old merchant motioned for him to bend down and whispered in his ear, “This is a magic carpet. Buy it, and it will take you anywhere you want to go—and quickly too!” The second brother and the carpet seller finally settled upon a price, and the brother took the magic carpet with him, satisfied that he had a most unusual gift.
The youngest brother went South, and when he arrived in a certain country, he traveled far and wide to see what he could find to bring back to his brothers.
Now, this was a country noted for its many forests. One day the youngest brother was walking in a grove of trees when he noticed something strange—a tree that was of a different shape from the hundreds of other trees around it. It was covered with orange-red blossoms, and it was so beautiful!
As the younger brother came closer, he saw that there was only one red pomegranate on the tree.
“This is strange indeed,” thought the young man. “A pomegranate tree with only one pomegranate.” He approached the tree slowly, laughing to himself and thinking of the story he would tell his brothers about the pomegranate tree full of blossoms with only one fruit on it. As he reached for the pomegranate, it fell into his hand even he could pluck it from the branch. As soon as that happened, another pomegranate burst from one of the blossoms. When the brother saw this, he looked at the pomegranate in his hand and said to himself, “This must be a magic pomegranate. It was the only one on the tree, and yet as soon as it fell into my hands when I was about to reach for it, a new pomegranate appeared suddenly. But what kind of magic does it perform, I wonder?”
The youngest brother examined the pomegranate, marveling at its beauty. “The shape is so perfect,” he thought, “crowned with the crown of King Solomon.” He walked away from the tree looking at his mysterious new treasure. When he looked back to see the pomegranate tree once more, it was no longer there. It had disappeared. “Now I know this is a magic pomegranate, and so this is what I will bring to my brothers.”
Ten years passed, and when the three brothers met as they had planned, they embraced with delight. They eagerly showed each other the unusual objects they had brought back from their journeys.
The oldest brother said, “Let me look through my glass and see what I can see.” When he held up the glass, he saw, in a far-off kingdom, a young princess lying ill in bed, near death.
“Quickly, dear brothers, get on my magic carpet and we’ll fly there!” said the second brother. In what seemed like seconds, the three brothers arrived at the far-off kingdom.
In the royal palace of this kingdom, the King, whose daughter lay ill, was grief-stricken. He had sent for every doctor in the country to cure the princess; but they had all failed and there was no hope left for the princess. Finally, the King had sent a messenger throughout the country saying, “Whoever can save my daughter, the princess, will have her hand in marriage, and half the kingdom!”
As if in a dream, the youngest brother heard a voice whisper inside him, “The pomegranate!” The youngest brother approached the King and asked, “May I try to cure the princess?” The King agreed and led the young man to the princess’ chambers.
When the young man saw the princess, he approached quietly and sat by her side. Then he took the pomegranate from his pocket, cut it open with gentle care, carefully cut each kernel from its place, and then fed the juicy red kernels to the princess. In a few moments, the princess felt stronger, and the color returned to her cheeks. Soon, she sat up in her bed, fully restored to health.
The King was overjoyed. He hugged his daughter and, turning to the three young men, he announced, “The man who saved my daughter will many her.”
The three brothers began to quarrel, each one claiming to be the one who should marry the princess.
The oldest brother said, “If it were not for my magic glass, we would never have known the princess was ill in the first place. So, since I discovered this first, I deserve to marry the princess.”
“But, brothers, It was because of my magic carpet that we could arrive so quickly,” argued the second brother. “Otherwise, the princess would have died. I deserve to marry the princess.”
Then the youngest brother said, “It was my magic pomegranate that actually healed the princess. I deserve to marry her.”
Since the three brothers could not decide which one should marry the princess, the King tried to decide. He looked at the three clever young men, but he could not decide who deserved to many his daughter.
The King finally turned to the princess and asked, “Who do you think deserves to marry you, my daughter?”
The princess answered simply, “I will ask each of them a question.” She turned to the oldest brother and asked, “Has your magic glass changed in any way since you arrived in this Kingdom?”
“No,” replied the oldest brother. “My glass is the same as always, and I can look through it and see to every corner of this kingdom.”
The princess then asked the second brother, “Has your magic carpet changed in any way since you arrived in this kingdom?” And the second brother answered, “No, my carpet is the same, and I can fly anywhere on it, as always.”
Turning to the youngest brother, the princess asked, “Has your magic pomegranate changed in any way since you arrived in this Kingdom?” And the youngest brother answered, “Yes, princess, my pomegranate is no longer whole, for I gave you a portion of it”
The princess turned to the three young men and said, “I will marry the youngest brother because he performed the greatest good deed—because he gave up something of his own.
The brothers and the King all understood the wisdom of the Princess. A lavish wedding was arranged for the prin-cess and the youngest brother.
And the King appointed the princess and all three brothers to become his royal advisers.
Ingredients: 2 cups all-purpose flour About 2/3 cup sugar 1 Tablespoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/3 cup minced crystallized ginger 1 teaspoon grated lemon peel 1-1/4 cups pomegranate seeds 1 cup milk 1 large egg About 1/4 cup (1/8 pound) butter or margarine, melted and cooled
Preparation: In a bowl, mix flour, 2/3 cup sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in crystallized ginger, lemon peel, and pomegranate seeds. Make a well in the center.
In a measuring cup, blend milk, egg, and 1/4 cup butter. Pour liquid all at once into well. Stir just until batter is moistened; it will be lumpy.
Spoon batter into 12 (2-1/2-inch-wide) or 24 (1-3/4-inch-wide) buttered muffin cups, filling each almost to the rim. Sprinkle with 1 to 2 teaspoons sugar.
Bake in a 425-degree F oven until lightly browned, about 16 minutes for large muffins, 13 minutes for small. Remove muffins from pan at once. Serve hot or set on a rack and serve warm or cool.
DIRECTIONS In a small mixing bowl, dissolve yeast in milk. Stir in butter, egg, sugar and salt. Combine 3/4 cup flour, raisins, currants, cinnamon and allspice; add to the yeast mixture and mix well. Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough. Turn onto a floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 4-6 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.
Punch dough down; shape into six 2-in. balls. Place 2 in. apart on a baking sheet coated with nonstick cooking spray. Using a sharp knife, cut a cross on top of each bun. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.
Beat egg yolk and water; brush over buns. Bake at 375 degrees F for 13-15 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on wire racks.
Combine icing ingredients; pipe over buns.
Patience Required Hot Cross Buns
1 cup milk 2 tablespoons yeast 1/2 cup sugar 2 teaspoons salt 1/3 cup butter, melted and cooled 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1/2 teaspoons nutmeg 4 eggs 5 cups flour 1 1/3 cups currants or raisins 1 egg white
Instructions: In a small saucepan, heat milk to very warm, but not hot (110°F if using a candy thermometer). Fit an electric mixer with a dough hook. Pour warm milk in the bowl of mixer and sprinkle yeast over. Mix to dissolve and let sit for 5 minutes.
With mixer running at low speed, add sugar, salt, butter, cinnamon, nutmeg and eggs. Gradually add flour, dough will be wet and sticky, and continue kneading with dough hook until smooth, about 5 minutes. Detach bowl, cover with plastic wrap and let the dough "rest" for 30-45 minutes.
Return bowl to mixer and knead until smooth and elastic, for about 3 more minutes. Add currants or raisins and knead until well mixed. At this point, dough will still be fairly wet and sticky. Shape dough in a ball, place in a buttered dish, cover with plastic wrap and let rise overnight in the refrigerator. Excess moisture will be absorbed by the morning.
(In the morning....) Let dough sit at room temperature for about a half-hour. Line a large baking pan (or pans) with parchment paper (you could also lightly grease a baking pan, but parchment works better). Divide dough into 24 equal pieces (in half, half again, etc., etc.). Shape each portion into a ball and place on baking sheet, about 1/2 inch apart. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm, draft-free place until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.
In the meantime, pre-heat oven to 400°F. When buns have risen, take a sharp or serrated knife and carefully slash buns with a cross. Brush them with egg white and place in oven. Bake for 10 minutes, then reduce heat to 350°F, then bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes more. Transfer to a wire rack. Whisk together glaze ingredients, and spoon over buns in a cross pattern. Serve warm, if possible.
We're forty performing bananas, in bright yellow slippery skins, our features are rather appealing, though we've neither shoulders nor chins, we cha-cha, fandango, and tango, we kick and we skip and we hop, while half of us belt out a ballad, the rest of us spin like a top.
We're forty performing bananas, we mambo, we samba, we waltz, we dangle and swing from the ceiling, then turn very slick somersaults, people drive here in bunches to see us, our splits earn us worldly renown, we're forty performing bananas, come see us when you are in town. by Jack Prelutsky
Banananananana...
I thought I'd win the spelling bee And get right to the top, But I started to spell "banana", And I didn't know when to stop.
by William Cole
both poems from Laughing Out Loud Poems to Tickle Your Funnybone
BANANA SMOOTHIE
Ingredients: 1 small frozen banana, cut into chunks 1/2 cup plain low-fat yogurt 1/4 cup orange juice
Put all ingredients into the blender and blend until smooth. The smoothies will be fairly thick. Add more liquid if you want them thinner. Makes 2 servings. Make up your own variations using other fruits and juices.
Banana Muffins
Ingredients: 1/2 cup of butter 1 cup brown sugar 2 eggs 1 1/2 cups flour 1 tsp. baking soda 1/4 tsp. salt 1 teaspoon of vanilla 1 1/2 tsp. baking powder 1/4 cup sour cream 3 large bananas, mashed
Directions: 1. Cream together butter and sugar. 2. When creamy, add the eggs, sour cream, mashed bananas, and vanilla. 3. Mix all dry ingredients and add to mixture. 3. Bake at 350 degrees in cup-cake pans for approximately 15 minutes or until lightly golden.
Young Peoples Poetry Week is the third week in April which is either the 12th through the 18th or the 19th through the 25th. I've decided to make it two weeks 'cause I'm confused!
The Silver Fish
While fishing in the blue lagoon I caught a lovely silver fish,
And he spoke to me, "My boy," quoth he, "Please set me free and I'll grant your wish... A kingdom of wisdom? A palace of gold? Or all the goodies your fancies can hold?"
So I said, "OK," and I threw him free, And he swam away and he laughed at me Whispering my foolish wish Into a silent sea.
Today I caught that fish again, That lovely silver prince of fishes, And once again he offered me— If I would only set him free— Any one of a number of wonderful wishes... He was delicious!
Shel Silverstein
Fish in a Bowl
Ingredients: 1 package (3 oz) of blue gelatin (berry blue) 3/4 cup boiling water 1/2 cup cold water ice cubes 1 package gummy fish
Optional: you can use small jelly beans or fruit cocktail or other sliced fruit (strawberries) for rocks at the bottom of your fish tank/bowl
Directions: Dissolve gelatin in boiling water completely. Combine cold water and ice cubes to make 1 1/4 cups ice and water. Add to gelatin, stirring until slightly thickened. Remove any unmelted ice. If mixture is still thin, refrigerate until slightly thickened.
If using fruit or jelly beans place on the bottom of clear bowl. Pour thickened gelatin over fruit/jelly beans. Suspend gummy fish in gelatin.
Refrigerate until set, about 1 to 2 hours. Garnish with additional gummy fish, if desired.
It was summer in the land of Denmark, and though for most of the year the country looks flat and ugly, it was beautiful now. The wheat was yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in, and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in, down to the edge of the canal, was a forest of great burdocks, so tall that a whole family of children might have dwelt in them and never have been found out.
It was under these burdocks that a duck had built herself a warm nest, and was not sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water to stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been on the watch, and have popped her egg into the nest. But ducks are not clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the big egg should be as warm as the rest.
This was the first set of eggs that the duck had ever laid, and, to begin with, she was very pleased and proud, and laughed at the other mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired of sitting there all day. 'Surely eggs take longer hatching than they did,' she said to herself; and she pined for a little amusement also. Still, she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings in them to die none of her friends would ever speak to her again; so there she stayed, only getting off the eggs several times a day to see if the shells were cracking--which may have been the very reason why they did not crack sooner.
She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when, to her joy, she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back to the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never moved for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little yellow heads were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so much that, after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world.
Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and, besides, broken shells are not at all comfortable things to sit or walk upon; so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched. But day after day went on, and the big egg showed no signs of cracking, and the duck grew more and more impatient, and began to wish to consult her husband, who never came.
'I can't think what is the matter with it,' the duck grumbled to her neighbour who had called in to pay her a visit. 'Why I could have hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken!'
'Let me look at it,' said the old neighbour. 'Ah, I thought so; it is a turkey's egg. Once, when I was young, they tricked me to sitting on a brood of turkey's eggs myself, and when they were hatched the creatures were so stupid that nothing would make them learn to swim. I have no patience when I think of it.'
'Well, I will give it another chance,' sighed the duck, 'and if it does not come out of its shell in another twenty-four hours, I will just leave it alone and teach the rest of them to swim properly and to find their own food. I really can't be expected to do two things at once.' And with a fluff of her feathers she pushed the egg into the middle of the nest.
All through the next day she sat on, giving up even her morning bath for fear that a blast of cold might strike the big egg. In the evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack in the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When she woke with the first steaks of light she felt something stirring under her. Yes, there it was at last; and as she moved, a big awkward bird tumbled head foremost on the ground.
There was no denying it was ugly, even the mother was forced to admit that to herself, though she only said it was 'large' and 'strong.' 'You won't need any teaching when you are once in the water,' she told him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed he did not, though he was not half so pretty to look at as the little yellow balls that followed her.
When they returned they found the old neighbour on the bank waiting for them to take them into the duckyard. 'No, it is not a young turkey, certainly,' whispered she in confidence to the mother, 'for though it is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there is something rather distinguished about it, and it holds its head up well.'
'It is very kind of you to say so,' answered the mother, who by this time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. 'Of course, when you see it by itself it is all right, though it is different, somehow, from the others. But one cannot expect all one's children to be beautiful!'
By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the fowls present.
'You must go up and bow low before her,' whispered the mother to her children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, 'and keep your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in its toes. It is a sign of common parents.'
The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with them; but the rest of the ducks looked on discontentedly, and said to each other:
'Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more! The yard is full already; and did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him out!' So saying she put up her feathers, and running to the big duckling bit his neck.
The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.
'Leave him alone,' she said fiercely, 'or I will send for his father. He was not troubling you.'
'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,' answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the fowlyard struck in:
'It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!'
The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to look, but was comforted when his mother answered:
'He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better, and is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as well as anybody.'
'Well, you must feel quite at home here,' said the old duck waddling off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the turkey-cock, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words, and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind as the rest.
At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw signs of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the ducks and hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door, and under cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired and too frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun the reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony of wild ducks. But as he could not run away again he stood up and bowed politely.
'You are ugly,' said the wild ducks, when they had looked him well over; 'but, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow.' And the duckling answered that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted nothing but to be left alone after his long journey.
So for two whole days he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay were he was for ever, he was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone, with nobody to bite him and tell him how ugly he was.
He was thinking these thoughts, when two young ganders caught sight of him as they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking for their supper.
'We are getting tired of this moor,' they said, 'and to-morrow we think of trying another, where the lakes are larger and the feeding better. Will you come with us?'
'Is it nicer than this?' asked the duckling doubtfully. And the words were hardly out of his mouth, when 'Pif! pah!' and the two new- comers were stretched dead beside him.
At the sound of the gun the wild ducks in the rushes flew into the air, and for a few minutes the firing continued.
Luckily for himself the duckling could not fly, and he floundered along through the water till he could hide himself amidst some tall ferns which grew in a hollow. But before he got there he met a huge creature on four legs, which he afterwards knew to be a dog, who stood and gazed at him with a long red tongue hanging out of his mouth. The duckling grew cold with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his little wings; but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was able to reach his place of shelter.
'I am too ugly even for a dog to eat,' said he to himself. 'Well, that is a great mercy.' And he curled himself up in the soft grass till the shots died away in the distance.
When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only stars to see him, he crept out and looked about him.
He would never go near a pool again, never, thought he; and seeing that the moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which he had come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage, which seemed too tumbledown for the stones to hold together many hours longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only light in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself cautiously in, and lay down under a chair close to the broken door, from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him or smell him; so he spend the rest of the night in peace.
Now in the cottage dwelt an old woman, her cat, and a hen; and it was really they, and not she, who were masters of the house. The old woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sold at the nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and never contradicted them in any way; so it was their grace, and not hers, that the duckling would have to gain.
It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eye on the door ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very fierce, and the duckling became less afraid as they approached him.
'Can you lay eggs?' asked the hen. And the duckling answered meekly:
'No; I don't know how.' Upon which the hen turned her back, and the cat came forward.
'Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are pleased?' said she. And again the duckling had to admit that he could do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody.
So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was still in bed.
'Such a useless creature has taken refuge here,' they said. 'It calls itself a duckling; but it can neither lay eggs nor purr! What had we better do with it?'
'Keep it, to be sure!' replied the old woman briskly. 'It is all nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here for a bit, and see what happens.'
So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the cat and the hen; but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired of being in a hut, and wanted with all his might to have a swim. And one morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it.
'What is the matter?' asked the hen; and the duckling told her.
'I am so longing for the water again. You can't think how delicious it is to put your head under the water and dive straight to the bottom.'
'I don't think I should enjoy it,' replied the hen doubtfully. 'And I don't think the cat would like it either.' And the cat, when asked, agreed there was nothing she would hate so much.
'I can't stay here any longer, I Must get to the water,' repeated the duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended, answered shortly:
'Very well then, go.'
The duckling would have liked to say good- bye, and thank them for their kindness, as he was polite by nature; but they had both turned their backs on him, so he went out of the rickety door feeling rather sad. But, in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy and content; but soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite another to like being damp on land.
The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the river, to the duckling's vast bewilderment, was getting hard and slippery, when he heard a sound of whirring wings, and high up in the air a flock of swans were flying. They were as white as snow which had fallen during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills were stretched southwards, for they were going--they did not quite know whither--but to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he only could have gone with them! But that was not possible, of course; and besides, what sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to those beautiful beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool and dived to the very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest happiness he could dream of. But, all the same, he knew it wasn't!
And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he never was warm at all; and at last, after one bitter night, his legs moved so slowly that the ice crept closer and closer, and when the morning light broke he was caught fast, as in a trap; and soon his senses went from him.
A few hours more and the poor duckling's life had been ended. But, by good fortune, a man was crossing the river on his way to his work, and saw in a moment what had happened. He had on thick wooden shoes, and he went and stamped so hard on the ice that it broke, and then he picked up the duckling and tucked him under his sheepskin coat, where his frozen bones began to thaw a little.
Instead of going on his work, the man turned back and took the bird to his children, who gave him a warm mess to eat and put him in a box by the fire, and when they came back from school he was much more comfortable than he had been since he had left the old woman's cottage. They were kind little children, and wanted to play with him; but, alas! the poor fellow had never played in his life, and thought they wanted to tease him, and flew straight into the milk-pan, and then into the butter-dish, and from that into the meal- barrel, and at last, terrified at the noise and confusion, right out of the door, and hid himself in the snow amongst the bushes at the back of the house.
He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of the winter. He only knew that he was very miserable and that he never had enough to eat. But by-and-by things grew better. The earth became softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different, somehow, from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds to which he had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant's hut. His body seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see what it was.
Oh, how glorious it felt to be rushing through the air, wheeling first one way and then the other! He had never thought that flying could be like that! The duckling was almost sorry when he drew near the pink cloud and found it was made up of apple blossoms growing beside a cottage whose garden ran down to the banks of the canal. He fluttered slowly to the ground and paused for a few minutes under a thicket of syringas, and while he was gazing about him, there walked slowly past a flock of the same beautiful birds he had seen so many months ago. Fascinated, he watched them one by one step into the canal, and float quietly upon the waters as if they were part of them.
'I will follow them,' said the duckling to himself; 'ugly though I am, I would rather be killed by them than suffer all I have suffered from cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated me kindly.' And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them as fast as he could.
It did not take him long to reach them, for they had stopped to rest in a green pool shaded by a tree whose branches swept the water. And directly they saw him coming some of the younger ones swam out to meet him with cries of welcome, which again the duckling hardly understood. He approached them glad, yet trembling, and turning to one of the older birds, who by this time had left the shade of the tree, he said:
'If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don't know why I was ever hatched, for I am too ugly to live.' And as he spoke, he bowed his head and looked down into the water.
Reflected in the still pool he saw many white shapes, with long necks and golden bills, and, without thinking, he looked for the dull grey body and the awkward skinny neck. But no such thing was there. Instead, he beheld beneath him a beautiful white swan!
'The new one is the best of all,' said the children when they came down to feed the swans with biscuit and cake before going to bed. 'His feathers are whiter and his beak more golden than the rest.' And when he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed through, as otherwise he would never have known what it was to be really happy.
written by Hans Christian Andersen
I had to work hard for a recipe to go with this story but I found one!!!
Ugly Duckling Cake
1 box yellow cake mix 1 (17oz) can fruit cocktail with syrup 1 cup coconut 2 eggs
Preheat oven to 350. Blend above ingredients. Beat 2 minutes at medium speed. Pour into a greased 9x13-inch cake pan. Bake for 45 minutes.
Ugly Duckling Frosting 1 cup brown sugar 1/4 cup evaporated milk 1 stick margarine 1 cup coconut
In a saucepan, combine brown sugar, milk and margarine. Cook 5 minutes over medium heat, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and stir in coconut. Pour over cake.
Here's a bonus! A classic Disney Silly Symphony...
