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she stopped to hoar what he had to say. The wolf was treacherous and designing, thereforo laid his plans accordingly. Willingly would he havo eaten up Red Riding-Hood that minute, for ho was almost famished with hunger, but he was fearful her cries would bring some of tho workmen to her assistance, when it was most likely he would be put to death.
“Good morning to you, my pretty Miss,” said he, “where are you going, and what have you in that basket that hangs on your arm?”
“I am going, Sir Wolf,” said sho, “to see my grandmother, who is very fond of mo. It was her who made mo this pretty rod riding-hood; and I am going to take hor a pot of butter, some cakes, and a little of our best wine, as she is ill; I wish we could spare more.”
“That is very good of you,” said the wolf, “pray does she live far from hence?”
“Yes, Sir, she rosides alone in the white cottage behind the mill you can see yonder.”
“My dear little girl,” said the wolf, “I know the old lady very well, and I shall call and see her shortly.—Good bye, do not hurry yourself, the sun is hot and you may get a fever.”
How very civil the wolf is, thought the silly girl; how wrong people are to be afraid of him and givo out that he eats children. I dare say it is an untruth. I am suro he was very kind to me; the day is indeed warm, and why should I fatigue myself, there is plenty of time between this and dusk. So she amused herself with catching butterflies, and filling the top of her basket with field flowers, to make bow pots for the mantel-piece; and, in fact, tired herself three times more than tho length of the walk would have dono.
At length, having collected a store of butter-cups, blue-bells, violets and daises, she hastenod on,—
Her basket o’er her arm she hung
And as she went she sweetly sung—
A lady liv’d beneath the hill,
And if not gone she is there still.
In the meantime, the artful wolf ran as swift as four legs could convey him, to the white cottage, and tapped at the door.
