n he got home. But he
was so pleased to think of the supper he was going to have that he did
not mind that at all. As soon as his mother opened the door he said, "Is
the kettle boiling?"

"Yes," said his mother; "have you got the little Red Hen?"

"I have," said the old Fox. "When I open the bag you hold the cover off
the kettle and I'll shake the bag so that the Hen will fall in, and then
you pop the cover on, before she can jump out."

"All right," said his mean old mother; and she stood close by the
boiling kettle, ready to put the cover on.

The Fox lifted the big, heavy bag up till it was over the open kettle,
and gave it a shake. Splash! thump! splash! In went the stone and out
came the boiling water, all over the old Fox and the old Fox's mother!

And they were scalded to death.

But the little Red Hen lived happily ever after, in her own little
farmhouse.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] Adapted from the verse version, by Horace E. Scudder, which follows
this as an alternative.

THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN

There was once't upon a time
A little small Rid Hin,
Off in the good ould country
Where yees ha' nivir bin.

Nice and quiet shure she was,
And nivir did any harrum;
She lived alane all be herself,
And worked upon her farrum.

There lived out o'er the hill,
In a great din o' rocks,
A crafty, shly, and wicked
Ould folly iv a Fox.

This rashkill iv a Fox,
He tuk it in his head
He'd have the little Rid Hin:
So, whin he wint to bed,

He laid awake and thaught
What a foine thing 'twad be
To fetch her home and bile her up
For his ould marm and he.

And so he thaught and thaught,
Until he grew so thin
That there was nothin' left of him
But jist his bones and shkin.

But the small Rid Hin was wise,
She always locked her door,
And in her pocket pit the key,
To keep the Fox out shure.

But at last there came a schame
Intil his wicked head,
And he tuk a great big bag
And to his mither said,--

"Now have the pot all bilin'
Agin the time I come;
We'll ate the small Rid Hin to-night,
For shure I'll bring her home."

And so away he wint
Wid the bag upon his back,
An' up the hill and through the woods
Saftly he made his track.

An' thin he came a