Read the fairy tale Lu loves
The Three Little Pigs
Three brothers, three houses, and a wolf who could blow two of them flat: one of the best-loved tales in the English language, and older than anyone can say.
Three little pigs grew up and set out into the world to build houses of their own. Their mother’s last piece of advice was to build well, and not to be in too much of a hurry about it, but two of the three were already halfway down the road and only half listening.
The first little pig met a man carrying a bundle of straw and asked for enough to build a house. By lunchtime the house was finished, golden and soft, and the first little pig lay down in the sun very pleased with himself. The second little pig traded a morning’s work for a load of sticks, and had his house up by the afternoon, and thought his brother had been foolish to spend so long.
The wolf comes
That evening a wolf came down the lane, stopped at the straw house, and said, little pig, little pig, let me come in. The first little pig said no. So the wolf took a breath and huffed and puffed and blew the straw house flat, and the first little pig ran as fast as his legs would carry him to his brother’s house of sticks.
The wolf followed, and stood outside the stick house, and said the same thing, and got the same answer. He huffed and he puffed, and it took him a little longer this time, but the stick house came down too, and both little pigs ran together up the hill to the house their youngest brother had built.
The house of brick
The third little pig had spent a whole week on his house, laying brick on brick while his brothers laughed and called him slow. Now the two of them were inside it, out of breath, and the wolf was at the door. He said, little pig, little pig, let me come in, and when the answer was no, he huffed and he puffed until he had no breath left, and not a single brick had moved.
The wolf was not used to being beaten, so he tried other ways. He told the third little pig about a field of fine turnips and offered to meet him there at six the next morning. The little pig went at five, filled a basket, and was home with the door shut before the wolf even set out. The wolf tried again with an apple tree, but the little pig threw an apple so far down the road that by the time the wolf had run after it, the pig was safely inside again.
Down the chimney
At last the wolf climbed onto the roof, meaning to come down the chimney. But the third little pig heard his feet on the tiles, and quietly built up the fire, and swung a big pot of water over it to boil. When the wolf felt the heat rising up the chimney toward him, he decided he did not want to come in after all. He scrambled back down, ran off into the woods, and never came near that house again.
The three little pigs lived on together in the house of brick, and there was room enough for all of them. The two who had laughed at their brother for building so slowly did not laugh at it anymore. A house that takes a week to build, they had learned, is the one still standing when the wind comes through.
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Yorkshire Lullaby
Play this softly while you read The Three Little Pigs aloud: a traditional handplayed lullaby from Yorkshire, a county of green dales and stone farmhouses in the north of England.
More stories, more lullabies
This is one tale in a growing collection of traditional stories from around the world, each one paired, where we can, with a real lullaby from the same culture.