“GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY?

She stood at the bar of justice, A creature wan and wild, In form too small for a woman,
In features too old for a child. For a look so worn and pathetic Was stamped on her pale
young face, It seemed long years of suffering Must have left that silent trace. “Your
name,” said the judge, as he eyed her With a kindly look, yet keen, “Mary Aguirre, if you
please, sir.” “And your age?” “I am fifteen.” “Well, Mary,” – and then from a paper He
slowly and gravely read – “You are charged here – I am sorry to say it. With stealing
three loaves of bread. “You look not like an old offender, And I hope that you can show
The charge to be false. Now, tell me, Are you guilty of this, or not?” A passionate burst
of weeping Was at first her sole reply; But she dried her tears in a moment, And looked
at the judge’s eye. “I will tell you just how it was, sir: My father and mother are dead,
And my little brothers and sisters Were hungry, and asked me for bread. At first, I
earned it for them, By working hard all day. But somehow the times were hard, sir, And
the work all fell away.

“I could get no more employment, The weather was bitter cold; The young ones cried
and shivered (Little Johnnie’s but four years old); So what I was to do, sir? I am guilty,
but do not condemn; I took – O! was it stealing?The bread to give to them.” Every man
in the courtroom – Graybeard and thoughtless youth – Knew, as he looked upon her,
That the prisoner spoke the truth, Out from their pockets came kerchiefs, Out from old,
faded wallets Treasures hoarded for years. The judge’s face was a study, The strangest
you ever saw, As he cleared his throat and murmured Something about the law. For
one so learned in such matters, So wise in dealing with men, He seemed, on a simple
question Sorely puzzled just then. No one blamed him, or wondered When at last these
words they heard, “The sentence of this young prisoner Is for the present deferred.” And
no one blamed him or wondered When he went to her and smiled, And tenderly left
from the courtroom Himself, the “guilty” child!
 The Little Red Hen

A Little Red Hen lived in a barnyard. She spent almost all of her time walking about the
barnyard in her picketty-pecketty fashion, scratching everywhere for worms.
She dearly loved fat, delicious worms and felt they were absolutely necessary to the
health of her children. As often as she found a worm she would call "Chuck-chuck-
chuck!" to her chickies.
When they were gathered about her, she would distribute choice morsels of her tid-bit.
A busy little body was she!
A cat usually napped lazily in the barn door, not even bothering herself to scare the rat
who ran here and there as he pleased. And as for the pig who lived in the sty – he did
not care what happened so long as he could eat and grow fat.

One day the Little Red Hen found a Seed. It was a Wheat Seed, but the Little Red Hen
was so accustomed to bugs and worms that she supposed this to be some new and
perhaps very delicious kind of meat. She bit it gently and found that it resembled a
worm in no way whatsoever as to taste although because it was long and slender, a
Little Red Hen might easily be fooled by its appearance.
Carrying it about, she made many inquiries as to what it might be. She found it was a
Wheat Seed and that, if planted, it would grow up and when ripe it could be made into
flour and then into bread.
When she discovered that, she knew it ought to be planted. She was so busy hunting
food for herself and her family that, naturally, she thought she ought not to take time to
plant it.
So she thought of the Pig - upon whom time must hang heavily and of the Cat who had
nothing to do, and of the great fat Rat with his idle hours, and she called loudly:
"Who will plant the Seed?"
But the Pig said, "Not I," and the Cat said, "Not I," and the Rat said, "Not I."
"Well, then," said the Little Red Hen, "I will."
And she did.
 Then she went on with her daily duties through the long summer days, scratching for
worms and feeding her chicks, while the Pig grew fat, and the Cat grew fat, and the Rat
grew fat, and the Wheat grew tall and ready for harvest.

So one day the Little Red Hen chanced to notice how large the Wheat was and that the
grain was ripe, so she ran about calling briskly: "Who will cut the Wheat?"
The Pig said, "Not I," the Cat said, "Not I," and the Rat said, "Not I."
"Well, then," said the Little Red Hen, "I will."
And she did.

She got the sickle from among the farmer's tools in the barn and proceeded to cut off all
of the big plant of Wheat.
On the ground lay the nicely cut Wheat, ready to be gathered and threshed, but the
newest and yellowest and downiest of Mrs. Hen's chicks set up a "peep-peep-peeping"
in their most vigorous fashion, proclaiming to the world at large, but most particularly to
their mother, that she was neglecting them.
Poor Little Red Hen! She felt quite bewildered and hardly knew where to turn.
Her attention was sorely divided between her duty to her children and her duty to the
Wheat, for which she felt responsible.
So, again, in a very hopeful tone, she called out, "Who will thresh the Wheat?"
But the Pig, with a grunt, said, "Not I," and the Cat, with a meow, said, "Not I," and the
Rat, with a squeak, said, "Not I."
So the Little Red Hen, looking, it must be admitted, rather discouraged, said, "Well, I
will, then."
And she did.
Of course, she had to feed her babies first, though, and when she had gotten them all to
sleep for their afternoon nap, she went out and threshed the Wheat. Then she called
out: "Who will carry the Wheat to the mill to be ground?"
Turning their backs with snippy glee, that Pig said, "Not I," and that Cat said, "Not I,"
and that Rat said, "Not I."
 So the good Little Red Hen could do nothing but say, "I will then." And she did.

Carrying the sack of Wheat, she trudged off to the distant mill. There she ordered the
Wheat ground into beautiful white flour. When the miller brought her the flour she
walked slowly back all the way to her own barnyard in her own picketty-pecketty
fashion.

She even managed, in spite of her load, to catch a nice juicy worm now and then and
had one left for the babies when she reached them. Those cunning little fluff-balls were
so glad to see their mother. For the first time, they really appreciated her.

After this really strenuous day Mrs. Hen retired to her slumbers earlier than usual -
indeed, before the colors came into the sky to herald the setting of the sun, her usual
bedtime hour.

She would have liked to sleep late in the morning, but her chicks, joining in the morning
chorus of the hen yard, drove away all hopes of such a luxury.

Even as she sleepily half opened one eye, the thought came to her that to-day that
Wheat must, somehow, be made into bread.

She was not in the habit of making bread, although, of course, anyone can make it if he
or she follows the recipe with care, and she knew perfectly well that she could do it if
necessary.

So after her children were fed and made sweet and fresh for the day, she hunted up the
Pig, the Cat and the Rat.

Still confident that they would surely help her some day she sang out, "Who will make
the bread?"
Alas for the Little Red Hen! Once more her hopes were dashed! For the Pig said, "Not
I," the Cat said, "Not I," and the Rat said, "Not I."

So the Little Red Hen said once more, "I will then," and she did.

Feeling that she might have known all the time that she would have to do it all herself,
she went and put on a fresh apron and spotless cook's cap. First of all she set the
dough, as was proper. When it was time she brought out the moulding board and the
baking tins, moulded the bread, divided it into loaves, and put them into the oven to
bake. All the while the Cat sat lazily by, giggling and chuckling.

And close at hand the vain Rat powdered his nose and admired himself in a mirror.

In the distance could be heard the long-drawn snores of the dozing Pig.

At last the great moment arrived. A delicious odor was wafted upon the autumn breeze.
Everywhere the barnyard citizens sniffed the air with delight.

The Red Hen ambled in her picketty-pecketty way toward the source of all this
excitement.

Although she appeared to be perfectly calm, in reality she could only with difficulty
restrain an impulse to dance and sing, for had she not done all the work on this
wonderful bread?

Small wonder that she was the most excited person in the barnyard!

She did not know whether the bread would be fit to eat, but - joy of joys! - when the
lovely brown loaves came out of the oven, they were done to perfection.
Then, probably because she had acquired the habit, the Red Hen called: "Who will eat
the Bread?"

All the animals in the barnyard were watching hungrily and smacking their lips in
anticipation, and the Pig said, "I will," the Cat said, "I will," the Rat said, "I will."

But the Little Red Hen said,

"No, you won't. I will."

And she did.

 The Monkey and the Turtle

A monkey, looking very sad and dejected, was walking along the bank of the river one
day when he met a turtle.

“How are you?” asked the turtle, noticing that he looked sad.

The monkey replied, “Oh, my friend, I am very hungry. The squash of Mr. Farmer were
all taken by the other monkeys, and now I am about to die from want of food.”

“Do not be discouraged,” said the turtle; “take a bolo and follow me and we will steal
some banana plants.”

So they walked along together until they found some nice plants which they dug up, and
then they looked for a place to set them. Finally the monkey climbed a tree and planted
his in it, but as the turtle could not climb he dug a hole in the ground and set his there.

When their work was finished they went away, planning what they should do with their
crop. The monkey said:

“When my tree bears fruit, I shall sell it and have a great deal of money.”

And the turtle said: “When my tree bears fruit, I shall sell it and buy three varas of cloth
to wear in place of this cracked shell.”

A few weeks later they went back to the place to see their plants and found that that of
the monkey was dead, for its roots had had no soil in the tree, but that of the turtle was
tall and bearing fruit.

“I will climb to the top so that we can get the fruit,” said the monkey. And he sprang up
the tree, leaving the poor turtle on the ground alone.

“Please give me some to eat,” called the turtle, but the monkey threw him only a green
one and ate all the ripe ones himself.

When he had eaten all the good bananas, the monkey stretched his arms around the
tree and went to sleep. The turtle, seeing this, was very angry and considered how he
might punish the thief. Having decided on a scheme, he gathered some sharp bamboo
which he stuck all around under the tree, and then he exclaimed:

“Crocodile is coming! Crocodile is coming!”

The monkey was so startled at the cry that he fell upon the sharp bamboo and was
killed.
 Then the turtle cut the dead monkey into pieces, put salt on it, and dried it in the sun.
The next day, he went to the mountains and sold his meat to other monkeys who gladly
gave him squash in return. As he was leaving them he called back:

“Lazy fellows, you are now eating your own body; you are now eating your own body.”

Then the monkeys ran and caught him and carried him to their own home.

“Let us take a hatchet,” said one old monkey, “and cut him into very small pieces.”

But the turtle laughed and said: “That is just what I like, I have been struck with a
hatchet many times. Do you not see the black scars on my shell?”

Then one of the other monkeys said: “Let us throw him into the water,”

At this the turtle cried and begged them to spare his life, but they paid no heed to his
pleadings and threw him into the water. He sank to the bottom, but very soon came up
with a lobster. The monkeys were greatly surprised at this and begged him to tell them
how to catch lobsters.

“I tied one end of a string around my waist,” said the turtle. “To the other end of the
string I tied a stone so that I would sink.”

The monkeys immediately tied strings around themselves as the turtle said, and when
all was ready they plunged into the water never to come up again.

And to this day monkeys do not like to eat meat, because they remember the ancient
story.
 How Turtle Became King
Based on a Folktale from Africa

A long time ago, two animals wanted to be king of their village. One was
Elephant, who was big, strong and fast. The other was Turtle, who was
the slowest animal, but was very smart and worked very hard.

They decided to hold a race at dawn through the forest. The winner
would be king.

Elephant laughed. He knew he could easily outrun Turtle. He went home

very happy and went to sleep.

Turtle was worried. He told his family and friends about the race. They
talked about it and Turtle came up with a plan.

That night, while Elephant was sleeping, all the turtles went to the forest
and walked all the way from the start line to the finish line. Every
hundred yards, one of Turtle’s friends or relatives would dig into the
earth and hide under dirt and leaves. Turtle’s older brother hid himself
right by the tree near the finish line.

At dawn, Elephant and Turtle arrived for the race. Elephant took off in a
flash.

After a minute or two, Elephant was sure he was far ahead of Turtle. He
turned around and called out, "Turtle, where are you? You must be far
behind me."

"Here I am, ahead of you!" cried Turtle.

Elephant was shocked to see Turtle ahead of him. At least, he thought it
was Turtle. It was really Turtle’s cousin who had been hiding there all
night.

Elephant ran past Turtle’s cousin. Every so often he would call back to
Turtle and be surprised to see Turtle ahead of him again and again.

Finally, when Turtle’s brother heard Elephant getting close to the finish
line, Turtle’s brother popped up and crossed the finish line before
Elephant.

Elephant could not tell the turtles apart. He thought the turtle at the finish
line was the same one who started the race.

Even though all the animals, including Elephant, thought it was

impossible for Turtle to win the race, Turtle found a way. And that’s how
Turtle became king of the village.
 The Patient Cat
by Laura E. Richards

HEN the spotted cat first found the nest, there was
nothing in it, for it was only just finished. So she said, “I will wait!” for she was a patient
cat, and the summer was before her. She waited a week, and then she climbed up
again to the top of the tree, and peeped into the nest. There lay two lovely blue eggs,
smooth and shining.

The spotted cat said, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait.” So she
waited; and while she was waiting, she caught mice and rats, and washed herself and
slept, and did all that a spotted cat should do to pass the time away.

When another week had passed, she climbed the tree again and peeped into the nest.
This time there were five eggs. But the spotted cat said again, “Eggs may be good, but
young birds are better. I will wait a little longer!”

So she waited a little longer and then went up again to look. Ah! there were five tiny
birds, with big eyes and long necks, and yellow beaks wide open. Then the spotted cat
sat down on the branch, and licked her nose and purred, for she was very happy. “It is
worthwhile to be patient!” she said.

But when she looked again at the young birds, to see which one she should take first,
she saw that they were very thin,—oh, very, very thin they were! The spotted cat had
never seen anything so thin in her life.

“Now,” she said to herself, “if I were to wait only a few days longer, they would grow fat.
Thin birds may be good, but fat birds are much better. I will wait!”

So she waited; and she watched the father-bird bringing worms all day long to the nest,
and said, “Aha! they must be fattening fast! they will soon be as fat as I wish them to be.
Aha! what a good thing it is to be patient.”

At last, one day she thought, “Surely, now they must be fat enough! I will not wait
another day. Aha! how good they will be!”

So she climbed up the tree, licking her chops all the way and thinking of the fat young
birds. And when she reached the top and looked into the nest, it was empty!!

Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch and spoke thus, “Well, of all the horrid,
mean, ungrateful creatures I ever saw, those birds are the horridest, and the meanest,
and the most ungrateful! Mi-a-u-ow!!!!”