And the little old Woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out
of its place.
“Somebody has been lying in my bed!”
said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.
And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was
the bolster in its place; and the pillow in its place upon the bolster;
and upon the pillow was the little old Woman's ugly, dirty head,--which
was not in its place, for she had no business there.
“Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!”
said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.
The little old Woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff
voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was
no more to her than the roaring of wind, or the rumbling of thunder. And
she had heard the middle voice, of the Middle Bear, but it was only as
if she had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the
little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so
sharp, and so shrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and
when she saw the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself
out at the other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open,
because the Bears, like good, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened
their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little
old Woman jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall; or ran
into the wood and was lost there; or found her way out of the wood, and
was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for
a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw
anything more of her.
JACK THE GIANT-KILLER
When good King Arthur reigned, there lived near the Land's End of
England, in the county of Cornwall, a farmer who had one only son called
Jack. He was brisk and of a ready lively wit, so that nobody or nothing
could worst him.
In those days the Mount of Cornwall was kept by a huge giant named
Cormoran. He was eighteen feet in height, and about three yards round
the waist, of a fierce and grim countenance, the terror of all the
neighbouring towns and villages. He lived in a cave in the midst of the
Mount, and whenever he wanted food he would wade over to the main-land,
where he would furnish himself with whatever came in his way. Everybody
at his approach ran out of their houses, while he seized on their
cattle, making nothing of carrying half-a-dozen oxen on his back at a
time; and as for their sheep and hogs, he would tie them round his waist
like a bunch of tallow-dips. He had done this for many years, so that
all Cornwall was in despair.
One day Jack happened to be at the town-hall when the magistrates were
sitting in council about the Giant. He asked: “What reward will be given
to the man who kills Cormoran?” “The giant's treasure,” they said, “will
be the reward.” Quoth Jack: “Then let me undertake it.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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