He left the Queen, his mother, Regent of the Kingdom, earnestly recommending to her care his wife and children. He was likely to be all summer in the field, and he had no sooner left than the Queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law and the children to a country house in the wood, so that she might more easily gratify her horrible longing. She followed them thither a few days after, and one evening said to her head cook, “I will eat little Aurora for dinner to-morrow.” “Ah, madam!” exclaimed the cook. “I will,” said the Queen, and she said it in the voice of an ogress longing to eat fresh meat; “and I will have her served with my favourite sauce.”
The poor man, seeing plainly that an ogress was not to be trifled with, took his great knife and went up to little Aurora’s room. She was then about four years old, and came jumping and laughing to throw her arms about his neck, and ask him for sweetmeats. He burst into tears, and the knife fell from his hands; then he went down again and into the farmyard, and there killed a little lamb which he served up with so delicious a sauce, that his mistress assured him she had never eaten anything so excellent. In the meanwhile, he had carried off little Aurora, and given her to his wife, that she might hide her in the lodging which she occupied at the further end of the farmyard. A week later, the wicked Queen said to her head cook, “I will eat little Day for supper.” He made no reply, having decided in his own mind to deceive her as before.
He went in search of little Day, and found him with a tiny foil in his hand, fencing with a great monkey, though he was only three years old. He carried the child to his wife, who hid him where she had hidden his sister, and then cooked a very tender little kid in the place of little Day, which the ogress thought wonderfully good. All had gone well enough so far, but one evening this wicked Queen said to the head cook, “I should like to eat the Queen with the same sauce that I had with the children.”
Then the poor cook was indeed in despair, for he did not know how he should be able to deceive her. The young Queen was over twenty years of age, without counting the hundred years she had slept, and no longer such tender food, although her skin was still white and beautiful, and where among all his animals should he find one old enough to take her place?
He resolved at last that, to save his own life, he would kill the Queen, and he went up to her room, determined to carry out his purpose without delay. He worked himself up into a passion, and entered the young Queen’s room, dagger in hand. He did not wish, however, to take her by surprise, and so he repeated to her, very respectfully, the order he had received from the Queen-mother. “Do your duty,” she said, stretching out her neck to him; “obey the orders that have been given you. I shall again see my children, my poor children, whom I loved so dearly,” for she had thought them dead, ever since they had been carried away from her without a word of explanation.
“No, no, madam!” replied the poor cook, touched to the quick, “you shall not die, and you shall see your children again, but it will be in my own house, where I have hidden them; I will again deceive the Queen-mother by serving up to her a young hind in your stead.”
He led her forthwith to his own apartments, then, leaving her to embrace her children and weep with them, he went and prepared a hind, which the Queen ate at her supper with as much appetite as if it had been the young Queen. She exulted in her cruelty, and intended to tell the King, on his return, that some ferocious wolves had devoured the Queen, his wife, and her two children.
One evening, while she was prowling, as usual, round the courts and poultry-yards of the castle, to inhale the smell of fresh meat, she overheard little Day crying in one of the lower rooms, because the Queen, his mother, was about to whip him for being naughty, and she also heard little Aurora begging forgiveness for her brother. The ogress recognised the voices of the Queen and her children, and, furious at having been deceived, she gave orders, in a voice that made everybody tremble, that the next morning early there should be brought into the middle of the court a large copper, which she had filled with toads, vipers, adders, and serpents, in order to throw into it the Queen and her children, the head cook, his wife, and his maid-servant. She further commanded that they should be brought thither with their hands tied behind them.
There they stood, and the executioners were preparing to fling them into the copper, when the King, who was not expected back so soon, entered the courtyard on horseback. He had ridden post-haste, and in great astonishment asked what was the meaning of this horrible spectacle? No one dared tell him, when the ogress, enraged at what she saw, flung herself head foremost into the copper, where she was instantly devoured by the horrid reptiles, with which she had herself caused it to be filled. The King could not help being sorry for it; she was his mother; but he quickly consoled himself with his beautiful wife and children.
Some time for a husband to wait Who is young, handsome, wealthy and tender, May not be a hardship too great For a maid whom love happy would render. But to be for a century bound To live single, I fancy the number Of Beauties but small would be found So long who could patiently slumber.
To lovers who hate time to waste, And minutes as centuries measure, I would hint, those who marry in haste May live to repent it at leisure Yet so ardently onwards they press, And on prudence so gallantly trample, That I haven’t the heart, I confess, To urge on them Beauty’s example.
Little Red Riding-Hood
There was once upon a time a little village girl, the prettiest ever seen or known, of whom her mother was dotingly fond. Her grandmother was even fonder of her still, and had a little red hood made for the child, which suited her so well, that wherever she went, she was known by the name of Little Red Riding-Hood.
One day, her mother having baked some cakes, said to her, “Go and see how your grandmother is getting on, for I have been told she is ill; take her a cake and this little jar of butter.” Whereupon Little Red Riding-Hood started off without delay towards the village in which her grandmother lived. On her way she had to pass through a wood, and there she met that sly old fellow, Mr Wolf, who felt that he should very much like to eat her up on the spot, but was afraid to do so, as there were woodcutters at hand in the forest. He asked her which way she was going, and the poor child, not knowing how dangerous it is to stop and listen to a wolf, answered, “I am going to see my grandmother, and am taking a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent her.”
“Does she live far from here?” asked the Wolf.
“Oh, yes!” replied Little Red Riding-Hood, “on the further side of the mill that you see down there; hers is the first house in the village.”
“Well, I was thinking of going to visit her myself,” rejoined the Wolf, “so I will take this path, and you take the other, and we will see which of us gets there first.”
The Wolf then began running off as fast as he could along the shorter way, which he had chosen, while the little girl went by the longer way, and amused herself with stopping to gather nuts, or run after butterflies, and with making little nosegays of all the flowers she could find.
It did not take the Wolf long to reach the grandmother’s house; he knocked: tap, tap.
“Who is there?”
“It is your grand-daughter, Little Red Riding-Hood,” answered the Wolf, imitating the child’s voice. “I have brought a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent you.” The good grandmother, who was ill in bed, called out, “Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up.” The Wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. He leaped on to the poor old woman, and ate her up in less than no time, for he had been three days without food. He then shut the door again, and laid himself down in the grandmother’s bed, to wait for Little Red Riding-Hood. Presently she came and knocked at the door: tap, tap.
Grandma, what great ears you have!
“Who is there?” Little Red Riding-Hood was frightened at first, on hearing the Wolf’s gruff voice, but thinking that her grandmother had a cold, she answered,—
“It is your grand-daughter, Little Red Riding-Hood.