ere she was going. The poor child,
who did not know how dangerous it is to stop and speak to wolves,
replied, "I am going to see my grandmother, and to take her a cake and
a pot of butter, which my mother has sent her."

"Is it very far from hence?" asked the wolf.

"Oh yes; it is just above the mill which you may see up there--the
first house you come to in the village."

"Well," said the wolf, "I will go there also, to inquire after your
excellent grandmother; I will go one way, and you the other, and we
will see who can be there first."

So he ran as fast as ever he could, taking the shortest road, but the
little maiden took the longest; for she stopped to pluck roses in
the wood, to chase butterflies, and gather nosegays of the prettiest
flowers she could find--she was such a happy and innocent little soul.

[Illustration: He asked her politely where she was going]

The wolf was not long in reaching the grandmother's door. He knocked,
Toc--toc, and the grandmother said, "Who is there?"

"It is your child, Little Red-Riding-Hood," replied the wicked beast,
imitating the girl's voice; "I bring you a cake and a pot of butter,
which my mother has sent you."

The grandmother, who was ill in her bed, said, "Very well, my dear,
pull the string and the latch will open." The wolf pulled the
string--the door flew open; he leaped in, fell upon the poor old
woman, and ate her up in less than no time, tough as she was, for he
had not tasted anything for more than three days. Then he carefully
shut the door, and laying himself down snugly in the bed, waited for
Little Red-Riding-Hood, who was not long before she came and knocked,
Toc--toc, at the door.

"Who is there?" said the wolf; and the little maiden, hearing his
gruff voice, felt sure that her poor grandmother must have caught a
bad cold and be very ill indeed.

So she answered, cheerfully, "It is your child, Little
Red-Riding-Hood, who brings you a cake and a pot of butter that my
mother has sent you."

Then the wolf, softening his voice as much as he could, said, "Pull
the string, and the latch will open."

So Little Red-Riding-Hood pulled the string and the door opened. The
wolf, seeing her enter, hid himself as much as he could under the
coverlid of the bed, and said in a whisper, "Put the cake and the pot
of butter on the shelf, and then make haste and come to bed, for it is
very late."

Little Red-Riding-Hood did not think so; but, to please her