Ad N ve O rts !
Classic Tales to Read, Love and Share
l ma HEIDI A little gir mountain friends on the
PUMPKIN JACK The perfect
poem for Halloween!
Puss in Boots The Boy Who Cried Wolf, The Fire Fairy, a Greek Myth, Weird Witches & Puzzles!
Let’s get spooky! In this magical issue, we’ve got lions galore, a fabulous fire fairy, a shape-changing ogre, a Halloween pumpkin and witches with backwards feet!
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Storytime™ magazine is published every month by Luma Works, 99 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0JF © Luma Creative Ltd, 2015. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be used or reproduced without prior written permission of the publisher. Storytime is a trademark of Luma Creative Ltd. Distributed by Marketforce (UK) Ltd. Printed by Southern Print.
Jacqueline Harris is our education consultant – a reading for pleasure expert with over 25 years’ experience in developing literacy skills in children. ILLUSTRATORS: George Ermos The Boy Who Cried Wolf Isabella Grott The Fire Fairy Gaby Zermeño Pumpkin Jack Ana Varela Atlanta and the Golden Apples Melanie Matthews Puss in Boots Marine Gosselin The Witches of Tibet Gaia Bordicchia Heidi
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The Boy Who Cried Wolf A
lfie was a shepherd boy and it was his job, come rain or shine, to look after the sheep that belonged to his neighbours in the village. One sunny day, he was sitting on the hillside watching the sheep, when he started to think about the younger children playing in the village. How he wished he could join them! Just remembering the fun he used to have made Alfie grow tired of his woolly companions. He was bored with watching the clouds float by and he’d climbed every tree.
! f l o W Wolf!
“I wish something exciting would happen,” he sighed. And then he had an idea – an idea filled with mischief. Suddenly, Alfie shouted, “Wolf! Wolf! There is a wolf chasing the sheep!” His cries were so loud, everyone in the village heard him, and they all came rushing up the hill with their axes to help drive the wolf away. But when they got there, there was no wolf to be found and the sheep were lazily grazing on the grass, with not a care in the world. The boy chuckled to himself at the clever joke he had played on everyone. “Tricked you!” he laughed, but the villagers weren’t amused. “What a foolish thing to do,” they complained. “Never cry wolf unless there is a truly a wolf to fear, Alfie.” Then they went back to their business, leaving Alfie grinning on the hillside.
A few days later, Alfie was on the hillside and growing restless again – he had run out of ways to amuse himself. “Time for a little more naughtiness,” he thought, and he shouted, “Wolf! Wolf! Help! It’s attacking the sheep!”
Talk About It! In this story, Alfie lies to the villagers because he is bored. Can you think of five boredombusting things Alfie could do on the hillside to make his days more fun? How would you entertain yourself if you were Alfie?
Did You Know? The famous phrase “to cry wolf” comes from this story and means to raise the alarm or ask for help when you don’t need it.
When the villagers heard his cries, they dashed up the hillside to protect their flock. But when they got there, there was not a wolf in sight! “Tricked you again!” he giggled. “Alfie!” scolded one of the villagers. “This isn’t funny! You must never cry wolf unless there is truly a wolf!” Feeling thoroughly cross with Alfie, they all headed back to the village, but he just shrugged – a little bit of mischief made his day less boring.
The next day, Alfie was on the hillside keeping an eye on the sheep, when he heard a rustle in the bushes.
The sheep started to bleat nervously and dart about, and a dark muzzle poked through the branches, baring sharp white teeth. It was followed by the bright flash of yellow eyes – they belonged to a wolf and it was about to pounce on his sheep! Alfie was so scared, he ran into the bushes to hide. “WOLF! WOLF!” he shouted, as the sheep scattered everywhere. “WOLF! WOLF!” he shouted, as the wolf snapped at their tails. “Help! It’s attacking the sheep!” But, this time, when the villagers heard Alfie’s cries, they just rolled their eyes and thought, “Oh, that’s just Alfie, up to his old tricks again. He won’t fool us
this time!” And everybody ignored him and went about their business.
Later that day, just as the sun was setting, the villagers realised that Alfie hadn’t yet returned with their sheep. A few of them wandered up the hillside to see why he was late, but when they got there, all they found were a few wispy strands of wool stuck to the thorny bushes.
The bushes parted and out stepped Alfie, still shaking with fear. “There really was a wolf this time,” he sobbed. “Why did nobody help me?” “Because we didn’t believe you!” explained the eldest villager. “You tricked us twice before, and it’s hard to know when a liar is telling the truth.” So, Alfie learnt his lesson the hard way – nobody believes a liar, even if he is almost in the jaws of a wolf!
“Alfie! Where are you?” they shouted.
Myths and Legends
Atlanta and the Golden Apples L
ong ago in Ancient Greece, a king called Iasus longed for a son to inherit his throne, so when the queen had a baby girl, the disappointed king took the poor baby away and left it in the wilderness. The baby, whose name was Atlanta, was found by a mother bear, who took pity on her and raised her with her own cubs until, one day, a kind hunter came by. Thinking Atlanta was all alone, the hunter took her to his home. He taught Atlanta the skills she needed to survive in the wild and, with his help, she grew up to be a great hunter â€“ she was fearless, strong, fast and highly skilled with a bow.
Atlantaâ€™s skills were soon noticed by Artemis, the goddess of the wild. Artemis and Atlanta became good
friends, and Artemis warned Atlanta that she should never marry, or she would lose her incredible powers. Artemis wasn’t the only one who had heard of Atlanta – when stories spread of the young woman’s courage and strength, she was challenged to fights, invited on perilous voyages and asked to hunt a giant boar that terrorised the land. She succeeded in everything she tried her hand at and, when King Iasus learnt of her story, he soon realised that this incredible woman must be the daughter he had left in the wild.
Accepting that Atlanta was as brave as any son and feeling great regret, he invited her to return home and begged for her forgiveness. Atlanta agreed, but she hadn’t been reunited with her family for very long, when her father began to nag her to get married. Atlanta was happy as she was and, remembering Artemis’s warning, she made a deal with him. “Father, I will only marry the man who can beat me in a race, and anyone who fails must be thrown into prison.”
Atlanta was certain that no man would be foolish enough to risk jail for her, but she hadn’t realised how widely she was admired. As soon as people heard of Atlanta’s challenge, men were queuing up to race against her. Of course, Atlanta won every race with ease, because she was one of the fastest humans on the planet.
Just as Atlanta was reaching the point when she could bear to race no more, a young man called Melanion came
forward and requested a race. He was handsome and witty, and he had fallen in love with Atlanta. When Atlanta met him, she liked him so much that she didn’t want to race him, but she had no choice but to accept his challenge. A date was set for their contest. Desperate to marry Atlanta, Melanion prayed at the temple of Aphrodite – the goddess of love – and begged for her help in winning the race. The goddess Aphrodite had long wished
that headstrong Atlanta would find love, so she took pity on Melanion. She appeared before him and offered him a gift of three golden apples – each one was enchanted. “Throw these down as you race with Atlanta and she will run after them. If you are quick, you will be able to get ahead of her. If you succeed, you must bring me a gift to thank me.” Melanion thanked Aphrodite and vowed he would return to her temple.
On the day of the race, he concealed the apples inside his tunic. When the contest began, Atlanta gracefully powered ahead, but they hadn’t gone far when Melanion threw a golden apple ahead of her. Atlanta saw a glint of gold from the corner of her eye and, wondering what it could be, she ran over to it. It was a thing of great beauty but, as she grabbed the golden apple, Melanion caught up with her and flashed a smile at her.
Make It! Make your own golden apple prop for this story by spearing an apple with a skewer and dipping it in gold paint. While it’s wet, sprinkle it with gold glitter for extra sparkle and let it dry! Remember: this apple is not for eating.
Alarmed at his speed, Atlanta raced alongside him and soon overtook him again. Just as she did so, Melanion threw down a second apple. Atlanta saw the flash of gold whoosh by and, though she knew it must be another golden apple, she found herself unable to resist it. She ran over to it, and Melanion bolted into the lead. Atlanta dashed back onto the track and gave chase again, but just as she drew level with Melanion and as the finish line came into sight, Melanion hurled down the third and final golden apple.
Atlanta roared with frustration, as she couldnâ€™t control her desire to pick it up. She sprinted over to the magic apple and grabbed it, but as she stood up to race again, Melanion crossed the finish line. Proud Atlanta had lost the race.
Atlanta and Melanion were married a week later. Despite the fact that Atlanta had never wanted to marry,
they made a fine couple and were happy together â€“ so happy, in fact, that Melanion completely forgot to bring the gift of thanks he had promised to the goddess Aphrodite. He soon discovered that it isnâ€™t wise to offend the gods. One day, when he and Atlanta were out walking, an angry Aphrodite appeared before the happy couple and turned them both into lions. Atlanta and Melanion were forced to flee into the wild, where they hunted together for the rest of their lives.
Atlanta was an awesome hunter, but she was also famous for beating a great Greek warrior in a wrestling match, and for being the only woman allowed to sail with the famous adventuring Argonauts!
The Fire Fairy D
eep in the countryside, in the far north of England, there lived a young widow with her playful six-year-old son.
All around their house, there was nothing but hills and moors, and not another soul in sight. Though the widow was sometimes lonely, she kept herself busy looking after their sheep and tending their vegetable patch, and she entertained her son with stories about the fairies and will oâ€™ the wisps who were said to live in the nearby glen. Though the widow loved their home during the day, she had always been afraid of the dark, so as soon as the sun started to set, she lit a roaring fire and tucked herself up in bed, where she could hide under the covers if she got scared.
Her son, however, hated going to bed early and was not at all afraid of the dark. He liked sitting by the window, looking into the black night, watching mysterious lights flicker across the moors. His mother would nag him to go to bed, but he got so fidgety, he couldn’t fall asleep.
One night, when the wind was rattling at the door, his mother urged him to get into bed and stay there.
But the boy would not listen. He sat on his little stool by the fire, and his mother went to bed in despair. Not long after she had fallen asleep, the boy heard a sound coming from the chimney, like a bird fluttering its wings. Suddenly, a tiny girl dropped down and landed right beside him. She had bright pink hair, sparkling green eyes, sweet rosy cheeks and pearly little wings.
“There’s nowt but mischief and magic on nights like this. The fairies will take you away!” she warned him.
The boy jumped up off his stool in surprise. “And who might you be?” he asked his unexpected visitor. “My own self,” said the little fairy in a jingly voice and she gave a cheeky smile. “And who are you?” Not knowing what to answer, the boy mumbled, “My own self too.” The fairy laughed and she and the boy started to play together. First, she used her magic to make the
flames of the fire change into all the colours of the rainbow, then she gathered the ashes into a pile and turned them into a white horse that pranced round the room, then an oak tree swaying in the breeze, and then dolphins diving through the waves! She even turned the ashes into tiny people who could walk and talk. The boy’s eyes were wide with delight at the fairy’s wonderful magic!
Then the fairy breathed on the ashes and they swirled all around her, like a tornado. The boy leant forward to stoke the dwindling fire so that he could see her better but, as he did so, a hot cinder jumped out of the fire and landed on the little fairy’s foot. “Yoww!” squealed the fairy in such a high-pitched screech that the boy covered his ears in horror. The scream went on for so long, the boy feared that it would wake his mother and he would get into terrible trouble. Soon he heard another loud flutter in the chimney and it scared him so much, he sprinted across the room
and dived under his bed-covers. Peeping out, he saw an older fairy with flame-red hair drop onto the hearth in front of the fire. “Who is making such a racket, and what is all the fuss about?” “It’s my own self, Mother!” wept the fairy girl. “My foot is burnt and it hurts!” “Who did this to you?” said the fairy mother, looking quite angry. “Why, it was my own self too!” sobbed the little fairy.
“Your own self, you say? Well, if you did it to yourself, let’s hope you’ve learnt your lesson!” said the fairy mother and, with that, she took her little fairy girl by the hand and whisked her up the chimney. The boy sighed with relief, but that night he barely slept a wink, worrying that the fairy mother would come back and tell him off. And the following night, when his mother told him to go to bed early, he didn’t argue at all – much to his mother’s surprise, he was under his blankets in the blink of an eye. Playing with fairies, he had discovered, was a great deal of fun, but playing with fire causes nothing but trouble.
Name It! Do you think the fairy’s real name was My Own Self? What name would you give her? Give the boy a name too!
Favourite Fairy Tales
Puss in Boots
nce upon a time, a poor miller died, leaving his three sons only a mill, a donkey and a cat between them.
The eldest brother took charge of the inheritance and gave himself the mill, the donkey went to the middle brother, and the youngest brother got the cat. The brothers went their separate ways, and the younger one moaned, “Oh, it’s all very well for them – they can make a fine living with a mill and a donkey, but what am I to do with this cat? Even if I eat it and use its fur to make a hat, I’ll still starve in the long run.” The cat heard every word the brother said and, alarmed at the thought of being his dinner, it said, “Don’t worry, master. Give me a bag and a pair of boots and I promise that I will help to improve your fortunes.”
The brother was taken aback by his talking cat. However, he had seen him show great cunning when catching mice, so he spent his last few pennies on the items the cat had asked for.
Later that day, the cat slung his new bag over his shoulder, pulled on his new boots and purred with delight. Then he put some vegetables in the bag and said, “Leave things with me, master.” And off he strolled to the nearest meadow.
The brother watched the cat open the bag, then lie next to it and play dead. Before long, two large rabbits hopped up to the bag, sniffed at it and crawled inside. The cat leapt up and closed the bag with the rabbits still in it. He gave one rabbit to the brother, then set off for the palace, where he asked to see the king. Impressed by Puss in Boots, the guards led him to the king’s private quarters, where the cat bowed low to the king and announced, “Your Majesty, I present to you a fine rabbit from my noble Master of Carabas.”
Amused by the sight of this cat in boots, the king said, “You may tell your master that I am most thankful.”
He darted home and said, “Tomorrow, master, you must bathe in the river. Do as I say and your fortune is made!”
The next day, the cat returned to the meadow with his bag filled with grain. He played dead next to the bag and a pair of fat pheasants waddled into it. Again, he gave one pheasant to his master and presented the other to the king as a gift from his Master. This went on for a couple of months, until everyone at the palace got to know Puss in Boots well – and the king started to wonder who was this most generous Master of Carabas.
The next day, the brother did as the cat told him and was bathing in the river, when he spotted the king’s carriage approaching and heard Puss in Boots cry, “Help! Help! The Master of Carabas is drowning!”
On one visit to the palace, Puss in Boots discovered that the king and his daughter would be taking a long drive along the river the next day.
When the king recognised Puss in Boots, he commanded his guards to pull over and help. As they dragged the brother from the river, the cat explained that a group of fiendish bandits had robbed his master of his clothes and thrown him in the river.
The king instructed his guards to fetch a fine suit for the Master of Carabas. Soon, the brother looked every bit a noble lord. In fact, he looked so regal, the princess fell quite in love with him.
He soon met some farmers mowing a field. “The king is coming,” the cat said. “When he asks who this field belongs to, you must tell him it is owned by the Master of Carabas – or you will be put to death!”
Intrigued to meet the man who had sent him so many generous gifts, the king invited the Master of Carabas to ride with them in his carriage. Puss in Boots winked, so the brother knew to play along with it.
So when the king passed by and asked who owned the field, the frightened farmers all chimed, “The Master of Carabas, Your Majesty.”
As he chatted with the king and the princess, Puss in Boots ran on ahead.
Puss in Boots ran on ahead again to a field of reapers. “When the king comes by,” he warned them, “you must tell him that this field belongs to the Master of Carabas – or you will be put to death!”
The brother smiled at Puss in Boots’ cleverness and said, “Yes, this field always gives me a plentiful harvest.”
So when the king reached the field and asked who owned it, the reapers answered without hesitation, “The Master of Carabas, Your Majesty.” The king congratulated the brother on such a fine harvest, and the brother nodded and smiled with pleasure. And so this went on. As the journey continued, the cat ran ahead to make sure that every worker they passed claimed to work for the Master of Carabas. The king, of course, was hugely impressed.
Puss in Boots ran on ahead until he reached a grand castle. This castle was owned by a rich but cruel ogre, who had the power to change into any shape he liked – and Puss knew that all the land the king had passed through belonged to this ogre.
Puss in Boots asked the castle guards if he may have the honour of paying his respects to the great ogre. Deeply flattered to receive such a message – for the ogre was terribly vain – he welcomed the cat into his throne room and invited him to take a seat. The cat flattered the ogre with many compliments, then said, “I have heard that you can change into any creature you wish, but I find it hard to believe. I have heard, for instance, that you can change into an elephant or a lion.” “It is true!” boasted the ogre. “I can show you my powers right now!” And, in an instant, he changed into a lion and let out a mighty roar.
Find It! Can you spot this little mouse hiding in our pictures? Tick this box when you find it!
e v i e l e b u o y o d w o N â€œ me, little Puss? â€? Draw It!
What did the ogre look like before he changed into a lion? Draw him here!
The cat was truly terrified and jumped onto the table, his fur standing on end. The ogre changed back into his normal shape and laughed at the cat. “Impressive!” said Puss in Boots, trying to calm himself. “But an ogre of your size must find it impossible to change into a small animal, like a mouse.” “Impossible?” said the ogre. “I don’t think so!” And in a flash, he turned into a tiny mouse and scurried across the floor. Wasting no time, Puss in Boots leapt on the mouse and killed it, putting an end to the ogre forever.
Just then, the king’s carriage pulled up outside the castle. Impressed by its size and grandeur, the king decided to pay its owner a visit. When the cat heard the carriage on the drawbridge, he dashed outside to greet the king and princess.
“We are delighted to welcome you to the home of my Master of Carabas!” The king was astonished, as was the brother, who did his best to hide his surprise. Still pretending he was the Master of Carabas, he smiled at the king and led the princess into the great hall, where a magnificent feast lay before them. The feast was the ogre’s lunch but, as the ogre was no more, they dined together in style. By the end of their feast, the king was so charmed by the Master of Carabas, he suggested that he should marry the princess. The brother and the princess both thought this was a wonderful idea. After their wedding, they made the ogre’s castle their home, and Puss in Boots spent his days curled up on a velvet cushion, lapping cream. His promise fulfilled, the clever cat never again did a day’s work.
Poems and Rhymes
Pumpkin Jack “W
hen I grow up,” said Pumpkin Jack, “They won’t make soup of me, Or squash me up into a pie, And eat me for their tea!”
want two eyes,” said Pumpkin Jack. “I want a toothy smile. I want my own triangle nose – The latest pumpkin style!”
Carve It! Can you carve a baby pumpkin that looks like Pumpkin Jack this Halloween? Get together with friends and see who can carve the cutest pumpkin!
n time for Halloween!” said Jack, “To see the witches meet With black cats, spiders, wizards, bats – Ready for trick or treat!”
’ll light their way,” said Pumpkin Jack. “I’ll keep them safe all night. I’ll grin at little ghosts and ghouls, My candle will burn bright.”
othing to fear,” said Pumpkin Jack, “When my light is a-glow, I’ll be your Jack-O-Lantern friend, But first... I need to grow!”
Around the World Tales
The Witches of Tibet E
veryone in Kathmandu admired Singha Sartha Aju. He was the first merchant courageous enough to travel over the tall and treacherous Himalayan mountains to travel to Tibet.
He left with carpets, statues and hats, and returned with gold dust, silks and wool. His journey was such a success that it was arranged for him to go again â€“ this time leading a caravan of yaks, loaded with goods to trade. Each yak was looked after by a trader, hoping to make his fortune in Tibet. Singha Sartha Aju led the way, but the journey over the mountain pass was difficult and took several days. When the men reached Tibet, they were so exhausted, they agreed to rest at the first town they reached. Singha was surprised when they came to a place he didnâ€™t recall from his last visit. It was a village of yurts, lit with candles and decorated with colourful flags.
Did You Know? Singha Sartha Aju is honoured as the first person to brave the journey from Nepal to Lhasa, the capital of Tibet. There are temples in Nepal where you can worship his statue, and some people believe he may have become the god, Buddha.
Singha and his men were greeted by many beautiful women, who offered the tired merchants a place to stay that night. They cooked up a huge feast and entertained the men with their dancing. The merchants went to bed that night feeling very happy.
When they woke the next morning, the women had already cooked delicious breakfasts and they begged the men to stay a little longer and join them for a party. The men were unable to resist and soon couldnâ€™t remember why they had even travelled to Tibet in the first place. One by one, they fell in love with the enchanting women.
Only Singha felt that something was wrong, but he was having such a nice time feasting and singing and dancing that he couldn’t work out what it was. When the men had been in the village for several days, Singha fell into bed after another long day of partying. As he turned to blow out the candle beside his bed, a face suddenly appeared in the flame. It grew bigger
and bigger until it almost filled the yurt. It was the face of Karunamaya – the god of kindness. “Singha Sartha Aju, you and your men must leave here first thing tomorrow morning! You are being enchanted by witches who plan to eat you. If you don’t believe me, look at their feet. You will see that their heels are at the front and their toes point backwards!”
Singha rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “I will help you to escape,” said the god. “Rise before the women awake and hurry to the river. You will meet a winged horse there, which will fly you to safety – but, whatever you do, you must not look back!”
“Their heels are at the front and their toes point backwards!”
Singha sneaked out of his yurt and saw one of the merchants dancing in the moonlight with a beautiful woman. When he looked at her feet, he saw that the god was telling the truth – her feet were indeed backwards! The charm was broken and Singha suddenly felt desperate to escape. He passed on the news to another merchant, asking him to spread the word. By the break of dawn, every man had heard the terrible truth and had witnessed the backwards feet of his witchy companion.
They all fled from the enchanted village and set out for the riverbank, where a giant winged horse stood waiting for them – it was the god Karunamaya in disguise. Singha mounted the horse, followed by the other merchants and, just as it took off, the beautiful witches ran after them, wailing and crying pitifully for their return. “Don’t look back!” warned Singha, but it was too late – the women’s cries were so piercing and sorrowful, the merchants couldn’t help but look back. As they did, each of them was dragged straight into the outstretched arms of the wailing witches. Only Singha Sartha Aju was strong enough to keep looking straight ahead and he flew on his winged horse across the river and all the way home to Nepal, where he is still remembered today for his bravery.
By Johanna Spyri
he charming old town of Mayenfeld has a footpath that leads through green woodlands to the foot of the Alps. Just at the point where the footpath gets steeper, the air is filled with the soft perfume of herbs. One sunny morning in June, a tall young lady was climbing up this narrow path, leading a little girl by the hand. The youngsterâ€™s cheeks were glowing. Small wonder, as the little one, who was just five years old, was bundled up as if she were braving a bitter frost. She was wearing two dresses and a large red shawl around her shoulders. With her feet in heavy boots, this hot and shapeless little person toiled up the mountain.
“Where are you taking the child, Deta?” asked the newcomer. “Is she your sister’s orphaned child?” “Yes, Barbara,” said Deta. “I am taking her up to Uncle to stay with him.” “You can’t really take her there, Deta! You must have lost your senses. The old man won’t listen to what you say.”
The pair had been climbing for about an hour when they reached a hamlet. It was the young lady’s hometown, so she was greeted from nearly every house. But she didn’t stop until, from the furthest cottage, a voice called out: “Deta, please wait! I am coming with you if you’re going further up.” When Deta stood to wait, the child promptly sat down on the ground. “Are you tired, Heidi?”
“That’s not my fault,” said Deta. Then she looked around for the child; but the little girl was nowhere to be seen. “There she is! Can’t you see her?” exclaimed Barbara. “She’s climbing up with goatherd Peter and his goats.” “It will be easy for Peter to watch her,” remarked Deta. “She is bright for her five years. Where are you going?” Barbara was going to a tiny brown mountain hut, which lay in a hollow just a few steps from their path.
“We’ll be there in an hour, if you take big steps and climb with all your little might!” Deta encouraged her.
This was Peter the goatherd’s home – the eleven-year-old boy, who fetched the goats from the village every day and drove them up the mountain to the luscious pastures.
A pleasant-looking woman stepped out of the house and joined them. The child wandered behind them.
Deta said goodbye to Barbara and climbed up a little higher to get a better view down the valley, and peered impatiently. The children were climbing slowly.
“No, but hot,” she replied.
The poor little girl followed Peter, panting in her heavy clothes. She was so hot and uncomfortable that it took all her strength to climb. She looked enviously at Peter, who jumped about so easily in his light trousers. She envied the goats even more, climbing over bushes and stones on their slender legs. Suddenly, Heidi took off her shoes and stockings. Then she undid her
heavy shawl and two little dresses. Out she slipped and stood in a light petticoat. In sheer delight, she threw up her dimpled arms, which were bare up to her short sleeves. Heidi arranged her dresses neatly and joined Peter and the goats. She was now as light-footed as any of them. Feeling free and comfortable, Heidi started to talk to Peter. She asked him how many goats he had, and where he led them, what he did with them when he got there, and so on. At last the children reached the hut.
When Deta saw the little climbers she cried: “Heidi, what have you done? Where are your dresses and your shawl? Are your new shoes gone, and the stockings that I made?” The child quietly pointed down and said, “There.” The aunt spotted a heap with a small red dot in the middle, which she recognised as the shawl. “Have you lost your senses? Who will fetch those things? It is half an hour’s walk! Please, Peter, run down and get them. I’ll give you this if you go down.”
With that, Deta held a five-penny piece under his eyes. In a great hurry, Peter ran down the path. He returned so quickly that Deta had to give him her coin without delay. He did not often get such a treasure, so his face was beaming. “If you are going up to Uncle, you can carry the pack,” said Deta. The boy readily took the things and followed Deta. Heidi jumped along gaily with the goats.
After three quarters of an hour, they reached the point where the old man’s house stood, exposed to every wind, but bathed in sunlight. From there you could gaze far down into the valley. Overlooking the valley, the uncle had made himself a bench by the side of the house. Here he sat, with his pipe between his teeth and both hands on his knees. He quietly watched the children climb up with the goats and Aunt Deta behind them.
Heidi reached him first. Approaching the old man, she held out her hand and said: “Good evening, Grandfather!” “Well, well, what does that mean?” replied the old man. Giving her his hand, he watched her from under his bushy brows. Heidi gazed back at him and examined him with much curiosity – he was strange to look at, with his thick, grey beard and shaggy brows that met in the middle. “Hello, Uncle,” said Deta. “This is Tobias and Adelheid’s child. You won’t remember her – the last time you saw her she was scarcely a year old.”
“Why do you bring her here?” asked the uncle. “Uncle, I have brought the little girl for you to look after,” said Deta. “I have done my share these past four years and now it is your turn.” “Indeed!” he said. “What on earth shall I do, when she begins to whine and cry for you? Then I’ll be helpless.” “You’ll have to put up with it!” Deta replied. “When she was left in my hands as a little baby, I had to work out how to care for her myself. Now I want to earn some money!” The uncle stood up and gave her such a look that she retreated a few steps. Stretching out his arm, he said: “Away with you! Begone! And don’t venture here again soon!” Deta didn’t have to be told twice. She said goodbye to Heidi and farewell to her uncle, and started down the mountain at a tremendous rate.
After Deta had disappeared, he sat down, blowing big clouds of smoke out of his pipe. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “I want to see in the hut,” replied Heidi.
“Come then,” and with that he got up and entered the cottage. Heidi followed him into a big room. In one corner stood a table and a chair, and in another the grandfather’s bed. Opposite to it was the cupboard. In one shelf were a few shirts; on another a few plates, cups and glasses; and on the top shelf, Heidi could see bread, bacon and cheese. She asked, “Where am I going to sleep, Grandfather?” “Wherever you want to,” he replied. That suited Heidi exactly. She looked for a cosy place. Beside the old man’s bed she saw a ladder. Climbing up, she found a hayloft, filled with fresh hay. Through a tiny round window she could look far down into the valley. “I want to sleep up here,” Heidi called. “Oh, it is lovely! I am making the bed now,” the little girl called out again. “Oh, do bring up a sheet, Grandfather.” The old man opened the cupboard and pulled out a long cloth. He climbed up to the loft, where a neat little bed was already prepared. He and Heidi put the sheet on, tucking the ends in well.
Heidi looked at her fresh new bed and said, “Grandfather, when I go to bed I always creep in between the sheet and the cover.” “Just wait one minute,” he said, and went down to his own bed. From it he took a large, heavy linen bag. The grandfather put it on Heidi’s bed. After it was all done, she said: “What a nice bed, and what a splendid cover! I only wish that I might go to sleep in it.” “I think we might eat something first,” said the grandfather. “Don’t you think?” When Heidi was reminded of dinner, she noticed how terribly hungry she was. Heidi said approvingly, “I think we might, Grandfather!”
He kindled a bright fire and put a large piece of cheese
on a long iron fork, and held it over the fire, till it was golden-brown on all sides. Heidi ran to the cupboard. When her grandfather brought the toasted cheese to the table, he found it nicely set with two plates and two knives and the bread in the middle. “I am glad to see that you can think for yourself,” said the grandfather, while he put the cheese on the bread. “Now you shall have something to eat!” and the grandfather filled her bowl with milk. The little girl ate and drank with great enjoyment.
After, they both went into the goat shed, where the old man busied himself, putting down fresh straw for the goats to sleep on. At last the evening came. The old fir-trees were rustling and a mighty wind was howling in the treetops. Heidi danced about under the trees, for those sounds made her feel as if a wonderful thing had happened to her. Suddenly a shrill whistle was heard and down from the heights came one goat after another, along with Peter. Uttering a cry of joy, Heidi ran into the flock. When they reached the hut, two beautiful goats came out of the herd –
Turn to page 50 to find out how to win a beautiful edition of Heidi by Johanna Spyri!
one white and the other brown. Heidi tenderly caressed them. “Are they ours, Grandfather? Do they belong to us? Are they going to stay?” Heidi asked in her excitement. “Oh, please tell me their names.” “The white one’s name is Schwänli and the brown one, I call Bärli,” was his answer, as he began to lock them up for the night. “Goodnight, Schwänli! Goodnight, Bärli,” the little girl called as they disappeared into the shed. Heidi now hurried up to her own bed in the hayloft, and that night she slept as well as a prince on his royal couch.
Storytime Playb x Be a super puzzle-solver, make your own little Pumpkin Jack, and be the first person to scale Storytime Mountain!
1 Fairy MAGIC!
The little fairy has made something magical from the ashes of the fire. Join the dots to work out what it is!
2 Quick Quiz
In The Witches of Tibet, which animal carries the merchantsâ€™ heavy loads over the tall mountains?
.15 .14 .23
.19 17. .18 .1
7. .3 .4
MAKE PUMPKIN JACK
A s g ro k a
Our no-sew pumpkin makes a brilliant party decoration – and you can use it to act out our poem too! • Cut an empty loo roll in half to make it shorter, then stand it upright in the centre of a large square of orange felt, fabric or even an orange paper napkin. • Scrunch up a plastic carrier bag and wrap it around the loo roll to bulk it out. Wrap a second carrier bag around it if you want to make your pumpkin fatter. • Grab a corner of your orange fabric and tuck it into the hole in the top of your loo roll. Do this with all four corners of the fabric, then make sure any loose bits are tucked into the roll too. • Take a sheet of brown paper – craft paper or an old paper bag or envelope will do. Twist it to look like a stalk. • Stick the stalk in the top centre of the loo roll. This will help secure the fabric. • To inish, cut out eyes, a nose and a mouth for Pumpkin Jack from black felt, fabric or paper, and stick them on with PVA or fabric glue.
TIP! Make sure an adult helper is with you to work with the plastic bags.
To stop Atlanta winning the race, Melanion has to throw down an apple every 50 metres. If the race track is 275 metres long, how many apples does he have to throw down?
BOOTS Can you design a pair of boots for our Puss to wear? Make sure they’re fancy, as he needs to impress the king!
How many sheep can you count in Alfie’s huddle? Write your answer 46in the box.
ANSWERS: 1. Fairy Magic – It’s a dolphin; 2. Quick Quiz – C. Yak; 4. Apple Arithmetic – 5 apples; 6 Counting Sheep – There are 12 sheep.
R E B M I L C N I A T N U MO How to Play untain. There are many paths on Storytime Mo route to Use your finger or a pencil to find the in that the highest point and back down aga herds the most goats. You can change â€™t paths whenever you like, but you can go back on yourself. Make a note of how many goats you collect as you go. If youâ€™re playing with other people, the herder with the most goats is the winner.
Your mission is to climb to the top of Storytime Mountain and walk back down to the bottom again, herding as many goats as you can along the way. Which path will you take?
: d e t c e l l o c s t a o G Player 1 Player 2 Player 3 Player 4
STORY MAGIC The king of poetry, the Queen of England and two fantastic competitions you shouldn’t miss! It’s Story Magic!
My Favourite Fairy Tale! Former children’s laureate and superstar poet and author, Michael Rosen, shared his favourite classic fairy tale with us… “I think my favourite well-known tale is Hansel and Gretel. It reminds us of the terrible choices that parents made in times of unbelievable hardship, the great resourcefulness of young people and the possibility of redemption and change at the end.” Visit www.storytimemagazine.com/shop to pick up a copy of Storytime Issue 13, featuring Michael’s favourite – Hansel and Gretel!
COMPETITION TIME! Win £100 worth of fabulous kids’ party supplies from KIDsorted.com – a great place to discover and book the latest and best children’s clubs and activities. Why not throw a party inspired by your favourite book character?
To enter both competitions, visit www.storytimemagazine.com/win
Book of the Month Lovers of The Queen’s Hat rejoice! Talented illustrator and author Steve Anthony’s follow-up, The Queen’s Handbag (from Hodder Children’s Books), is here. This time, a handbag-hunting escapade leads Her Majesty on a tour of Great Britain, taking in sights including the Angel of the North, Stone Henge and Giant’s Causeway. Will she catch the culprit? The fast-paced finale is not to be missed!
! N I W
Story lovers! Enter our competition to win one of five hardback copies of Heidi and find out what happens next in her adventure!
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Classic Tales to
his job, come rain rd boy and it was lfie was a shephe ed to his the sheep that belong or shine, to look after village.
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t Greece, a King ong ago in Ancien for a son to called Iasus longed so when the queen inherit his throne, king was bitterly had a baby girl, the he took the and ointed disapp and left it in poor baby away
you and your men “Singha Sartha Aju, thing tomorrow must leave here irst enchanted by morning! You are being to eat you. If you witches who plan at their feet. look don’t believe me, heels are at the their that You will see point backwards!” front and their toes
been in the village When the men had fell into bed for several days, Singha day of partying. after another long out the candle blow to turned he As face suddenly beside his bed, a It grew bigger appeared in the lame.
almost illed the and bigger until it of Karunamaya – yurt. It was the face s. the god of kindnes
soon noticed Altanta’s skills were of the wild. by Artemis, the goddess became good Artemis and Atlanta
e Atlanta as she om es aw ow ll Fo ny n Look out for fu life Discover why Alfie feet in Tibet runs the race of her shouldn’t cry wolf
something was Only Singha felt that having such a nice wrong, but he was singing and dancing time feasting and out what it was. that he couldn’t work
name was Atlanta, The baby, whose bear, who was found by a mother and raised took pity on the baby until, one her with her own cubs by and took day, a hunter came years, the the Over Atlanta home. the skills she hunter taught Atlanta in the wild. With needed to survive up to be a great his help, she grew , strong, hunter – she was fearless with a bow. fast and highly skilled
sheep, when hillside watching the was sitting on the the village. One sunny day, he children playing in about the younger fun he used he started to think remembering the could join them! Just bored How he wished he companions. He was grow tired of his woolly tree. to have made Alfie he’d climbed every and by oat fl clouds with watching the
Twelve Days of The Snow ChildChristmas, The Greedy Fox , , The Queen of Winter & MORE !
Find out more at: gazine.com WINnt www.storytimema Brillia Books!
WIN Brilliant Books
Issue 15 £3.99 >
“She was fearles
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
as she was and, Atlanta was happy s warning, she remembering Artemis’ him. made a deal with
ta and Atlanen Apples
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Myths and Legends
warned Atlanta friends, and Artemis marry or she that she should never le powers. would lose her incredib only one who had Artemis wasn’t the when stories spread heard of Atlanta – courage and of the young woman’s challenged to ights, strength, she was voyages and asked invited on perilous which terrorised to hunt a giant boar, ed in everything the land. She succeed at and, before long, she tried her hand that this incredible King Iasus realised daughter he had woman might be the wild. abandoned in the
was as brave Accepting that Atlanta have had, he as any son he might home and begged asked her to come Atlanta agreed, for her forgiveness. with her reunited but she hadn’t been when her father family for very long, to get married. began to nag her
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