The Little Red Hen

Once upon a time, on a busy, noisy farm, lived a Little Red Hen. She was a hard worker. She scratched the ground for worms, she cleaned her nest, and she took good care of her chicks. On the same farm lived a lazy Dog, a sleepy Cat, and a noisy Duck. The Dog liked to sleep in the sun all day. Snoooze. The Cat liked to curl up on the soft hay. Purrrr. The Duck liked to float on the pond. Quack, quack. None of them liked to work.

One bright morning, the Little Red Hen found some grains of wheat. “Cluck, cluck!” she called. “Look what I found! Wheat! If we plant this, we can have bread.” She went to her friends. “Who will help me plant this wheat?” asked the Little Red Hen. “Not I,” yawned the Dog, closing his eyes. “Not I,” stretched the Cat, flicking her tail. “Not I,” quacked the Duck, paddling away. “Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did. She dug the holes, planted the seeds, and watered the moist earth.

Summer came, and the wheat grew tall and golden. It waved in the breeze. “It is time to harvest,” said the Little Red Hen. She went to her friends. “Who will help me cut this wheat?” “Not I,” grumbled the Dog. “Not I,” mumbled the Cat. “Not I,” spluttered the Duck. “Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did. She cut the wheat with her sharp beak and tied it into bundles.

“Now we must take it to result,” she said. “Who will help me carry this wheat to the mill to be ground into flour?” “Not I,” said the Dog. “Not I,” said the Cat. “Not I,” said the Duck. “Then I will do it myself,” sighed the Little Red Hen. She put the heavy sack on her back and walked all the way to the mill. The miller ground the wheat into soft, white flour.

The next morning, the Little Red Hen put on her apron. “Who will help me bake this flour into bread?” she asked hopefully. “Not I,” said the Dog. “Not I,” said the Cat. “Not I,” said the Duck. “Very well,” said the Little Red Hen. “Then I will do it myself.” She mixed the flour with water and yeast. She kneaded the dough. She put it in the oven. Soon, a delicious smell filled the farmyard. It smelled like warm, crusty, yummy bread.

The Dog woke up. The Cat sat up. The Duck swam to shore. They all came running to the kitchen window. The Little Red Hen took the hot loaf out of the oven. It was golden brown and perfect. “Who will help me eat this bread?” she asked. “I will!” barked the Dog, wagging his tail. “I will!” purred the Cat, licking her lips. “I will!” quacked the Duck, flapping his wings.

The Little Red Hen looked at them with her bright eyes. “Oh no, you won’t,” she said firmly. “I planted the grains. I harvested the wheat. I carried it to the mill. And I baked the bread. None of you helped me. So, I will eat it myself.” And she did. She called her little chicks, and they ate the warm bread until not a crumb was left. The lazy animals watched with hungry tummies, wishing they had not been so lazy.

Moral of the Story: Hard work brings rewards. If you are lazy and don’t help, you cannot expect to share the prize.

Moral of the Story: If you want to share in the rewards, you must share in the work.