This Time Stories by Donald Bisset. P.3

Дата публикации: Aug 01, 2021 1:6:52 PM

The Puddle and the Bun

Once upon a time there was a little puddle on the pavement.

It had been raining and the water was still dripping from the glistening leaves on the trees. People walked by ?.?„ f, Pf*smS bus was reflected red in the water.

Well, this is life,” thought the puddle. “It’s better than hvmg in a cloud. All the same, I wish someone would drink me. After all, that’s what water’s for!”

of curr^n!16!? 3 igreat big van fulJ oi currant buns 1 came along and

as it passed, one fell off with a

splash right into the puddle.

Dear, oh dear me ” saiVI

ь™. “Now I'm all wet' and no one

San 1o "4 ' d° ,№1

puddho “Please don’t* Л'» «“

it’s nice ЬегеУwli'h’ afubToe’’11!'' "Bul' you see' though buses, and the frees d^pi^ ^f« ’»»" *!« rid 3 bun as being- eaten* япН f ’ tS ot So nice for cafeteria at the station т d 1 S on m>' way to the station bun and eaten with У™ goin8,to be sold as a dear!” 'uth a CUP of tea. Oh dear! Oh

b„„r°'V d0n'‘ cry.” «Id the puddle. “Don't cry, dear

Wouldn't it be’furHf someone w m,f,ad to have met you. me'find drink you?” °Пе °u d Come along and eat

what°f'see?” " Said ,he puddIe' “Ba‘ look.., Can you see

three’'m*T$u!Z7TWas a duck and

stop the cars ка"< *»

“Quack!” said the mothefdnH^'P°IlceiT|an.

Pond ’’And all the little baby ducks sai^s/0^ to the

4u“0h, rdd a4-*

ail the children should tave^r^amoti,er duck‘ “And eat.” Then she saw ?h r,est and something to

“Quack, quack, quackl^sheTaid^-Look 7' ‘.he puddle' currant bun and a.puddlel" They were ЫеаЙГ 3 ‘°Vely

Qood-bye, dear puddle," said the bu„

Good-bye, my dear,” replied the water.

buJaTd pyu7dieywatl'r.”aid ‘he d“Cl<S' "We dp like

went^down63 thfS6d’ Pae°ple TW?lked by’ and as the sun

a new ml p D T dnpped from the trees and made a new puddle on the pavement, and the stars coming

water?6 ЬУ °Пе Ш №e Sky overhead were reflected in til

“Honk honk, honk,” said the buses Quack, quack quack,” said the mother duck.

Squeek, squeek, squeek,” said the baby ducks.

д .^lp;dr,P;dnP’ went the rain.

And that is the end of the story.

The River of Words

of timf **,1еге ^as a river which was mad«

mad7ro?'Zy.Ks d°Wn *° *he SCa a"d the se“ was

, uf r*ver ^0Wed along, the words and the letters ordinary fivers.3^ °th“ Ш b“,feted the rocks i“st iike

upon antSl.S"ld the dver' "Let Us write a s,oryl 0nc«

“Hooray!” shouted all the other words. “That’s the way to begin a story. Now what comes next?”

This is the story the river told them. 1

Once upon a time there was a river made of words and it was going down to the sea and all the words were

across The ^y'boft when .suddanly a little otter swam across the river and the words got into the wrong order

otter,"Wh°se name

backer» SSJWjgfr "PerhaPS « 1 «»-

ngMu“Once %eodVfhS”taS a“therand S°°" ** '*

whose name was Charlie.” ’ th 6 W3S an otter>

Why, that s me! My name’s Charlie t+v +

£' ЙрЙ “ V^ twVba0„“dl

words again. “P lha

at the wTds8'0'Xr “ ChayN?S S* C0U,d aml boked

Worse and worse" d'e llme upon a Once.”

n very ‘.irae«

to start ali over again ” J Ы Now we ve got

CharHe,CandTea]N?de b^riwo^rS^N*”16 Г* '

happens next?” У r 01 ^orc*s — Now what

They thought and thought but couldn’t think f < about Charlie. So he sard “П1 LS and 1, bit S,‘ory the river and then ran яч fact iJPu ,?ot back f'om

right into the middle of the river Then^hiV^ JUI?Ped and looked at the words. ^ЬеГг^'Е

“Once upon a time there was a very naughty otter,” he read, “and one day he met a pussy cat.”

Miaow! ’ said the pussy cat. “Do you like ice-cream?”

“No!” said Charlie.

“Miaow! Do you like milk?”

“No!”

“Miaow! Do you like fish?”

“Yes, I do!” said Charlie.

“Miaow,” said the pussy cat. “Well, if you come to my house, my auntie will give you a fish tea. Brown bread and butter and fish paste.”

‘That will be nice!” said Charlie. “It makes me feel quite hungry. I think I’ll go home to tea now. But before I go, tell me what are you going to do with the story?”

“It’s going to be a story in a book called “This Time Stories,” said the river.

Charlie was pleased. “That’s nice!” he said. “Now I’m going! Good-bye!”

“Good-bye!” said the river.

The words all jumbled around and then spelt, “Love and kisses to Charlie.” And tumbling and tossing they flowed on into the story-book sea.

Fog

Once upon a time, on the Queen’s birthday, the fog had come to London to see the Trooping of the Colour.1 But when it got there the Queen said to the General, “We won’t have the Trooping of the Colour today because it’s foggy.” And this happened every time the fog came. So it felt sad, it did want to see the Trooping of the Colour. But how could it if every time it came to London the Queen said, “Cancel the Parade!”

Now, at Buckingham Palace, under the Queen’s chair, there lived a cat, whose name was Smokey,2 and he felt very sorry for the fog and wanted to help it. So next year, just before the Queen’s birthday, he wrote it a letter:

Under the Queen’s chair,

The Palace.

Tuesday.

Dear FOG, please come to the Palace,

Yours sincerely,

SMOKEY.

Thai night, before she went to bed the Queen put the cat out at the back door at Buckingham Palace and went upstairs to bed. And, sure enough, before Smokey had time to miaow 1 three times, he saw the fog. They were pleased to see each other.

I do want to see the Trooping of the Colour,” said the tog. But they always cancel the parade when it’s foggy, so I never get to see it.”

I know, said Smokey. “Now, tomorrow you must arrive just as the soldiers are going on parade and when the General sees you, he’ll say, ‘Your Majesty, there’s a fog. Shall I cancel the parade?”’

“Yes, he always says that,” said the fog with a sigh. Then, continued Smokey, “just as the Queen is gomg to say Yes, cancel the parade!’ you miaow.”

All right! said the fog. “But how do I miaow?”

So Smokey showed him and the fog practised till it W'as good at miaowing.2

Next morning the soldiers were all lined up for the parade when the General said, “Shall I cancel the parade Your Majesty? I see a fog.” У

‘‘Where?”, said the Queen.

“There!” said the General, pointing to the fog. oust then the fog miaowed.

“Really, General,” said the Queen. “Can’t you tell the fog fromrf a pussy cat? I distinctly heard it “miaow” Of course you can’t cancel the parade!”

nffAr0DnieJ°fgift^yed and Savv the Tro°Pirig' of the Colour alter all it felt happy now and went away to live on the

top of the mountains in Wales where there were other logs to play with,1

Once the Queen wrote to tt:

The Palace,

1st June.

Dear FOG,

Please stay away.

Yours sincerely, *

The QUEEN,

And the fog wrote back:

Wales.

Friday.

Your Majesty, I am very happy here.

It was fun seeing the Trooping of the Colour, Thank you for having me.

Yours sincerely,

FOG.

P. S. Love to SMOKEY.

The Queen can’t understand it.

“How did the fog manage to see the Trooping of the Colour, Smokey?” she asks him, looking under her chair But Smokey just purrs. That’s his secret.