The Green Fairy Book

Chapter 3 The Half-Chick

Word Count: 1504 | Released on: 18/11/2017

sters. Indeed, he was such a strange, queer-looking creature, that when he first chipped his shell his mother could scarcely believe her eyes, he was so different from the twelve other fluffy,

head sadly as she l

will go out into the world and rule over poultry yards of their own; but this poor little fellow will alwa

er he was as unlike his brothers and sisters as he was in appearance. They were good, obedient chickens, and when the old hen chicked after them, they chirped and ran back to her side.

ay by himself, and hide among the Indian corn. Many an anxious minute his brothers and

ient, and his manner to his mother was often very rude,

return he strutted up to his mother with the peculiar little hop and kick which w

myard, with nothing but a dreary maize field t

own-up cock, and a poor little thing like you would be tired out before you had gone half the distance. No,

ld not listen to his mother's advice, nor to the p

courtyard of my own at the King's palace, I shall perhaps ask some of you to come and pay me a short visit

ed his mother, running after him; but he was in such a hurry to

d, he passed a stream. Now the stream was all choked up, and overgrown

f-chick hopped along its banks, 'do come

you think I have nothing to do but to waste my time on such trifles? Help yourself, and don't trouble busy

been left by some gipsies in a wood. It wa

half-chick approached, 'in a few minutes I shall go quite out, unless

Gather sticks for yourself, and don't trouble me. I am off to Madrid to

anches the wind was caught and entangled. 'Oh! Medio Pollito,' called the wind, 'do hop up he

pity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito in great glee, for the towers and roofs of Madrid were now in sight. When he entered the town he saw before him a great splendid house, with soldiers standing befo

dinner,' and opening the window he stretched out his arm, caught Medio Pollito, and popped him into the broth-pot that was standin

s despair, 'do have pity upon

would not help me when I was a little stream

e danced and hopped from one side of the pot to the other,

ch me like this; you ca

'you would not help me when I was dying

to thought he must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the

e;' and opening the window he threw Medio Pollito out into the street. But the wind caught him up, and whirled him through the

ke this you will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or -' but

ld not help me; now you are punished.' And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the houses till

till you come to the highest church, you will see Medio Pollito perched on his one leg on the st

Chapter End

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The Green Fairy Book

Andrew Lang Fantasy

“This is the third, and probably the last, of the Fairy Books of many colours. First there was the Blue Fairy Book; then, children, you asked for more, and we made up the Red Fairy Book; and, when you wanted more still, the Green Fairy Book was put together. The stories in all the books are borrowed from many countries; some are French, some German, some Russian, some Italian, some Scottish, some English, one Chinese. However much these nations differ about trifles, they all agree in liking fairy tales. The reason, no doubt, is that men were much like children in their minds long ago, long, long ago, and so before they took to writing newspapers, and sermons, and novels, and long poems, they told each other stories, such as you read in the fairy books. They believed that witches could turn people into beasts, that beasts could speak, that magic rings could make their owners invisible, and all the other wonders in the stories. Then, as the world became grown-up, the fairy tales which were not written down would have been quite forgotten but that the old grannies remembered them, and told them to the little grandchildren: and when they, in their turn, became grannies, they remembered them, and told them also. In this way these tales are older than reading and writing, far older than printing. The oldest fairy tales ever written down were written down in Egypt, about Joseph’s time, nearly three thousand five hundred years ago. Other fairy stories Homer knew, in Greece, nearly three thousand years ago, and he made them all up into a poem, the Odyssey, which I hope you will read some day. Here you will find the witch who turns men into swine, and the man who bores out the big foolish giant’s eye, and the cap of darkness, and the shoes of swiftness, that were worn later by Jack the Giant-Killer. These fairy tales are the oldest stories in the world, and as they were first made by men who were childlike for their own amusement, so they amuse children still, and also grown-up people who have not forgotten how they once were children.”