The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time, three little pigs lived with their mother in a cosy house at the edge of a meadow. One morning, their mother kissed each of them on the snout and said, 'You're big enough now to build your own houses. Be smart, be safe, and always look out for each other.' The three little pigs packed their bags, waved goodbye, and set off down the road.

The first little pig found a farmer selling straw. 'Straw is light and easy to carry,' he said. 'I'll have my house up by lunchtime!' And he did. He built a house of golden straw, with a straw door and straw windows and a little straw chimney on top. It looked lovely. He sat inside and had a sandwich.

The second little pig found a woodcutter selling sticks. 'Sticks are stronger than straw,' she said. 'I'll have my house up by teatime!' And she did. She built a house of sturdy sticks, with a stick door and stick windows and a neat stick fence around the garden. She sat inside and had a cup of tea.

The third little pig found a builder selling bricks. 'Bricks are heavy,' he said, 'and it will take a long time. But bricks are strong.' He worked all day, laying brick on top of brick, mixing mortar, fitting a proper door and proper windows and a solid chimney. By the time he was finished, the stars were out. He sat inside, tired but satisfied, and had a bowl of soup by the fire.

The very next morning, the big bad wolf came prowling down the road. He was thin and hungry, with sharp eyes and a belly that growled louder than he did. He stopped at the house of straw and knocked on the door.

'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!'

'Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin!' said the first little pig.

'Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house down!'

And the wolf huffed, and he puffed, and he blew. The straw scattered like confetti. The first little pig squealed and ran as fast as his trotters could carry him to his sister's house of sticks.

The wolf followed. He knocked on the stick door.

'Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!'

'Not by the hair on our chinny-chin-chins!'

'Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house down!'

And the wolf huffed, and he puffed, and he blew. The sticks snapped and tumbled. The two little pigs squealed and ran to their brother's house of bricks.

The wolf followed. He knocked on the brick door. He was panting now, but still grinning.

'Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!'

'Not by the hair on our chinny-chin-chins!'

'Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll BLOW YOUR HOUSE DOWN!'

And the wolf huffed. And he puffed. And he blew, and he blew, and he BLEW. But the brick house didn't move. Not a wobble, not a shake, not a single brick out of place. The wolf blew until he was red in the face. Nothing.

So the wolf tried the chimney. He scrambled up the roof, squeezed into the chimney, and slid down - straight into a pot of hot soup that the third little pig had set over the fire. The wolf yelped, shot back up the chimney like a furry cannonball, and ran howling into the woods. They never saw him again.

The three little pigs sat together by the fire in the strong, warm brick house. The first little pig said, 'I should have used bricks.' The second little pig said, 'Me too.' The third little pig just smiled and poured them each a bowl of soup.

From that day on, they all lived together in the brick house. And whenever the wind blew hard outside, they sat by the fire, safe and warm, and felt very glad indeed that someone had taken the time to build something strong.