Riding-Hood," because of a scarlet riding-hood and cloak
that her kind old grandmother had made for her, and which she nearly
always wore.

She was a happy, merry little child, with a smile and a gentle word
for everybody, and so you may easily believe that everybody loved her,
and was glad to catch a glimpse of her golden curls and her scarlet
cloak as she tripped along, singing, under the green boughs.

Now, this, let me tell you before I forget, was at the time when all
the birds and beasts, or very nearly all, could speak just as well as
you or I; and nobody was surprised to hear them talk, as I suppose one
would be nowadays.

Well, as I was saying, Little Red Riding-Hood lived with her parents
in a little white cottage with a green door and a thatched roof, and
red and white roses climbing all over the walls, and even putting
their pretty heads in at the latticed windows, to peep at the child
who was so like them.

It was on a bright spring morning early in May, when little Red
Riding-Hood had just finished putting away the breakfast-cups that her
mother came bustling in from the dairy.

"Here's a to-do," she said. "Farmer Hodge has this very minute told
me that he hears your Grannie isn't quite well, and I can't leave the
cheese-making this morning for love or money! Do you go, my dear,
and find out how she is--and--stay--take her this little pot of sweet
fresh butter, and these two new-laid eggs, and these nice tasty little
pasties. Maybe they'll tempt her to eat a bit. Here's your basket, and
don't be too long away, honey."

So little Red Riding-Hood pulled her hood over her curls, and set off
down the sunny green slope, with her basket in her hand, at a brisk
pace. But as she got deeper into the forest, she walked more slowly.
Everything was so beautiful; the great trees waved their huge arms
over her, the birds were calling to one another from the thorns all
white with blossom, and the child began singing as she went, she could
not have told why, but I think it was because the beautiful world made
her feel glad.

The path wound along through the trees, and, as it grew wider after
turning a corner, Red Riding-saw that she was likely to have
company on her walk; for, where two cross-paths divided, there sat a
big gray wolf licking his long paws, and looking sharply about him.
And "Good morning, Red Riding-Hood," said he.

"Good morning, Mr. Wolf," she answered.

"And where may you be going, sweet la