Table of Contents
Chapter 1
How it happened that Mastro Cherry, carpenter, found a piece of wood that wept and laughed like a child.
Centuries ago there lived—“A king!” my little readers will say immediately.
No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.
I do not know how this really happened, yet the fact remains that one fine day this piece of wood found itself in the shop of an old carpenter. His real name was Mastro Antonio, but everyone called him Mastro Cherry, for the tip of his nose was so round and red and shiny that it looked like a ripe cherry.
As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mastro Cherry was filled with joy. Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself:
“This has come in the nick of time. I shall use it to make the leg of a table.”
He grasped the hatchet quickly to peel off the bark and shape the wood. But as he was about to give it the first blow, he stood still with arm uplifted, for he had heard a wee, little voice say in a beseeching tone: “Please be careful! Do not hit me so hard!”
What a look of surprise shone on Mastro Cherry’s face! His funny face became still funnier.
He turned frightened eyes about the room to find out where that wee, little voice had come from and he saw no one! He looked under the bench—no one! He peeped inside the closet—no one! He searched among the shavings—no one! He opened the door to look up and down the street—and still no one!
“Oh, I see!” he then said, laughing and scratching his Wig. “It can easily be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say the words! Well, well—to work once more.”
He struck a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood.
“Oh, oh! You hurt!” cried the same far-away little voice.
Mastro Cherry grew dumb, his eyes popped out of his head, his mouth opened wide, and his tongue hung down on his chin.
As soon as he regained the use of his senses, he said, trembling and stuttering from fright:
“Where did that voice come from, when there is no one around? Might it be that this piece of wood has learned to weep and cry like a child? I can hardly believe it. Here it is—a piece of common firewood, good only to burn in the stove, the same as any other. Yet—might someone be hidden in it? If so, the worse for him. I’ll fix him!”
With these words, he grabbed the log with both hands and started to knock it about unmercifully. He threw it to the floor, against the walls of the room, and even up to the ceiling.
He listened for the tiny voice to moan and cry. He waited two minutes—nothing; five minutes—nothing; ten minutes—nothing.
“Oh, I see,” he said, trying bravely to laugh and ruffling up his wig with his hand. “It can easily be seen I only imagined I heard the tiny voice! Well, well—to work once more!”
The poor fellow was scared half to death, so he tried to sing a gay song in order to gain courage.
He set aside the hatchet and picked up the plane to make the wood smooth and even, but as he drew it to and fro, he heard the same tiny voice. This time it giggled as it spoke:
“Stop it! Oh, stop it! Ha, ha, ha! You tickle my stomach.”
This time poor Mastro Cherry fell as if shot. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting on the floor.
His face had changed; fright had turned even the tip of his nose from red to deepest purple.
Comprehension Questions
Choose the correct answer.
Matching exercise
Vocabulary Gap-fill
Chapter 2
Peter was most dreadfully frightened. He rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other among the potatoes. After losing them, he ran on all four legs and went faster—but unfortunately, he ran into a gooseberry net and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons—quite new.
Peter gave himself up for lost and shed big tears. But his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement and implored him to exert himself. Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve to trap Peter—but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him.
Peter rushed into the toolshed and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful hiding place if it hadn’t had so much water in it. Mr. McGregor was quite sure Peter was somewhere in the shed, and began turning over flower-pots, one by one. Presently, Peter sneezed—“Kertyschoo!” Mr. McGregor was after him in no time!
He tried to put his foot on Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants in the process. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work.
Chapter 3
Peter sat down to rest—out of breath and trembling with fright. He had no idea which way to go, and he was very damp from sitting in that can. After a while, he began to wander—lippity-lippity—not very fast, and looking around.
He found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath. An old mouse was running in and out over the doorstep, carrying peas and beans.
Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pea in her mouth she couldn’t answer—she only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry.
He tried to find his way across the garden but got even more puzzled. Then he came to a pond, where Mr. McGregor filled his watering-cans. A white cat was staring at some goldfish. She sat very, very still—but the tip of her tail twitched now and then. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her. He had heard about cats from his cousin, Benjamin Bunny.
He headed back toward the toolshed. Suddenly, quite close by, he heard the sound of a hoe— Peter scuttered underneath the bushes. But when nothing happened, he came out, climbed up on a wheelbarrow, and peeped over. Mr. McGregor was hoeing onions. His back was turned—and beyondb him was the gate!
Chapter 4
Peter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow and ran as fast as he could along a straight path behind the black-currant bushes. Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner—but Peter didn’t care! He slipped underneath the gate—and was safe at last.
Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and shoes to make a scarecrow. Peter never stopped running until he reached home under the big fir-tree. He flopped down on the soft sand floor and shut his eyes. His mother, who was busy cooking, noticed his missing clothes—It was the second jacket and pair of shoes Peter had lost in a fortnight!
Peter was not very well that evening. His mother put him to bed, gave him some camomile tea, and said: “One tablespoonful to be taken at bedtime. But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper.