Ox-Cart Man
in October he backed his ox into his cart and he and his family filled it up with everything they made or grew all year long that was left over.
He packed a bag of wool he sheared from the sheep in apirl.
He packed candles the family made. He packed linen made from the flax they grew. He packed shingles he split himself. He packed birch brooms his son carved with a borrowed kitchen knife. He packed potatoes they dug from their garden- but first he counted out potatoes enough to eat all winter and potatoes for seed next spring. He packed a barrel of apples,honey, honeycombs, turnips, and cabbages, a wooden box of maple sugar from the maples they had tapped in March when they boiled and boiled and boiled the sap away. He packed a bag of goose feathers that his children collected from the barnyard geese.
When his cart was full, he waved good-bye to his wife, his daughter, and his son and he walked at his ox's head ten days over hills, through valleys, by streams, past farms and villages until he reached Portsmouth and Portsmouth Market.He sold the bag of wool. He sold the shawl his wife made. He sold five pairs of mittens. He sold candles and shingles. He sold birch brooms. He sold potatoes. He sold apples. He sold honey and honeycombs, turnips and cabbages. He sold maple sugar. He sold a bag of goose feathers. Then he sold the wooden box he carried the maple sugar in. Then he sold the barrel he carried the apples in. Then he sold the bag he carried the potatoes in. Then he sold his ox cart. Then he sold his ox, and kissed him good-bye on his nose.
Then he sold his ox's yoke and harness. With a pocket full of coins, he walked through Portsmouth Market. He bought a iron kettle to hang over the fire at home, and for his daughter he bought an embroidery needle that came from a boat in the harbor that had sailed all the way from England, and for his son he bought a Barlow knife, for carving birch brooms, and for the whole family he bought two pounds of wintergreen peppermint candies.
Then he walked home, with the needle and the knife, and the wintergreen peppermint candies tucked into the kettle, and a stick over his shoulder, struck through the kettle's handle, and coins still in his pockets, past farms and villages, over hills, through valleys, by streams, until he came home to his farm, and his son, his daughter, and his wife were waiting for him, and his daughter took her needle and began stitching, and his son took his Barlow knife and started whittling, and they cooked dinner in their new kettle, and afterward everyone ate a wintergreen peppermint candy, and that night the ox-cart man sat in front of his fire stitching a new harness for the young ox in the barn, and he carved a new yoke, and sawed planks for a new cart and split shingles all winter, while his wife made flax into linen all winter, and his daughter embroidered linen all winter, and his son carved Indian brooms from birch all winter, and everybody made candles.
In March they tapped the sugar maple trees and boiled the sap down, and in April they sheared the sheep. spun yarn, and wove and knitted,and in May they planted potatoes, turnips, and cabbages, while the apple blossoms bloomed and fell, while bees woke up, starting to make new honey,and geese squawked in the barnyard, dropping feathers soft as clouds.
Silly Sally by Audrey Wood (Scholastic出版)
Silly Sally went to town, walking backwards, upside down.
On the way she met a pig, a silly pig; they danced a jig.
Silly Sally went to town, dancing backwards, upside down.
On the way she met a dog, a silly dog; they played leapfrog.
Silly Sally went to town, leaping backwards, upside down.
On the way she met a loon, a silly loon; they sang a tune.
Silly Sally went to town, singing backwards, upside down.
On the way, she met a sheep, a silly sheep; they fell asleep.
Now how did sally get to town,sleeping backwards, upsidedown?
Along came Neddy Buttercup,walking forwards,right side up.
He tickled the pig who danced a jig.
He tickled the dog who played leapfrog.
He tuckled the loon who sang a tune.
He tickled the sheep who fell asleep.
He tickled Sally who woke right up.
She tickled Neddy Buttercup.
And that’s how sally got totown, walking backwards,upside down.
Stick man
lives in the family tree with his Stick lady love and their stick children three.
One day he wakes early and goes for a jog. Stick Man, oh stick man, beware of the dog!
I’m not a stick! Why can’t you see, I’m stick man, I’m stick man, I’m stick man, that’s me, and I want to go home to the family tree!
Harry , the dirty dog
Harry was a white dog with black spots who liked everything…… except, getting a bath.
So one day when he heard the water running in the tub.
He took the scrubbing brush, and buried it in the back yard.
Then he ran away from home.
He played where they fixing the street…… and got very dirty.
He played at the railroad…… and got even dirtier.
He played tag with other dogs …… and became dirtier still.
He slid down a coal chute…… and got the dirtiest of all.
In fact, he changed from a white dog with blank spots to a black dog with white spots.
Although there were many other things to do…… Harry began to wonder if his family thought that he had really run away.
He felt tired and hungry too…… So without stopping on the way he ran back home.
When Harry got to his house, he crawled through the fence and sat looking at the back door.
One of the family looked out and said “There’s a strange dog in the back yard.” “By the way, has anyone seen Harry?”
When Harry heard this, he tried very hard to show them he was Harry.
He start to do all his old, clever tricks.
He flip-flopped…… and he flop-flipped. He rolled over and played dead.
He danced…… and he sang.
He did these tricks over and over again, but everyone shook his head and said “ Oh, no, it couldn’t be Harry.”
Harry gave up and walked slowly toward the gate.
But suddenly, he stopped.
He ran to the corner of the garden and started to dig furiously.
Soon, he jumped away from the hole, barking short, happy barks.
He’d found the scrubbing brush!
And carrying it in his mouth, he ran into the house.
Up the stairs he dashed with the family following close behind.
He jumped into the bathtub and sat up begging with the scrubbing brush in his mouth, a trick he certainly had never done before.
“This little doggie wants a bath!” cried the little girl, and her father said “Why don’t you and your brother give him one?”
Harry’s bath was the soapiest one he’d ever had.
It worked like magic.
As soon as the children started to scrub, they began shouting, “Mummy! Daddy! Look, look! Come quick!” “It’s Harry!” “It’s Harry!” “It’s Harry!” they cried.
Harry wagged his tail and was very, very happy.
His family combed and brushed him lovingly and he became once again a white dog with black spots.
It was wonderful to be home.
After dinner, Harry fell asleep in his favorite place, happily dreaming of how much fun it had been getting dirty.
He slept so soundly, he didn’t even feel the scrubbing brush he’d hidden under his pillow.
Winnie’s Midnight Dragon
There was something on the doormat. Something with big green eyes…
Winine and her black cat, Wilbur, are all tucked into bed when, suddenly, Wilbur is woken up by a strange noise. There’s a bay dragon at the door! Soon Winnie finds her house filled with breaking bowls, armor clattering down the stairs, puffs of smoke...and even clouds of butterflies. What's a witch to do?...
‘Time for bed,’ said Winnie the Witch,
as the clock struck twelve.
Witches always go to bed at midnight.
Winnie turned off the lights and went upstairs.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face,
put on her nightie and climbed into bed.
In two minutes she was snoring.
Wilbur, her big black cat, was already asleep.
He was curled up in his basket, dreaming.
Two minutes later, Wilbur woke up.
He could hear a funny noise in the garden.
‘Meeoww!’ cried Wilbur
and he jumped back.
A long nose poked
through the cat flap.
Then there was a puff of smoke.
The cat flap wobbled and shook.
He crept to the cat flap and peeped out.
There was something on the door mat.
Something with big green eyes.
A spiky body, then a long tail, followed the nose.
There was a baby dragon in Winnie’s house!
‘Meeoww!’ cried Wilbur. He turned three
backward somersaults and ran into the hall.
The baby dragon thought this was fun.
He ran after Wilbur.
Swish, swish went his tail.
Winnie’s grandfather clock wobbled and shook.
DING! DONG! BOING!
‘Meeoww!’ cried Wilbur and he raced upstairs.
The baby dragon ran after him.
Swish, swish went his tail.
Winnie’s suit of armour wobbled
and shook and rolled down the stairs.
CRASH! BANG! CLANG!
“Where’s your mother, little dragon?” Winnie asked.
“Meeoww!”Cried Wilbur outside Winnie’s door. Winnie woke up and jumped out of bed. “Whatever’s that?”She said.
Then she saw a puff of smoke coming from behind her broomstick. “Oh no!” Said Winie. “My broomstick is on fire!”
Winnie grabbed her boomstick. “Goodness gracious me!”
Said Winnie. “It’s a baby dragon! He could burn my house down. We’ll have to find his mother, Wilbur.”
“Where’s your mother, little dragon?”Winnie asked. “Boo hoo hoo,” cried the baby dragon.
A cloud of smoke came out of his nose. Puff, puff.
“Puff!” went the dragon, and out of his nose came…
A cloud of butterflies.
“Puff, puff .Puff!” went the baby dragon, who was very surprised.
SMASH went Winnie’s best bowl.
SMASH went the vase of flowers.
There were butterflies everywhere. Wilbur loved chasing butterflies.
The baby dragon loved chasing anything!
CRASH! Went the table.
“That’s wasn’t such a good idea,”Saide Winnie. She waved her magic wand again and shouted,
Out of the dragon’s nose came nothing.
“Good, said Winnie .”
Winnie at the seaside
It was a very hot summer.
Winnie the Witch felt hot and tired.
Wilbur, her cat, felt hot and tired, too.
‘I want a swim, Wilbur,’ Winnie said.
‘Let’s go to the seaside.’
The Winnie had an idea. She waved her magic wand three times and shouted,
Winnie found her beach towel, her beach
bag and her beach umbrella.
She jumped onto her broomstick,
Wilbur jumped onto her shoulder, and they were off.
They flew over hot towns,
hot roads, hot cars,
and then they came to the sea.
There were lots of people on the beach, ‘Look after my bag and my broomstick, Wilbur,’ Winnie said.
but Winnie found a place for her towel. She ran into the water.
She put up her beach umbrella
and got ready for her swim.
It was lovely in the sea.
Winnie splashed through the water, and skipped over the little waves.
She was having a lovely time.
Wilbur sat and watched her.
He couldn’t swim. He didn’t like water.
He hated getting wet.
Winnie dived into the water. It was such fun!
But the water started to creep up the sand,
up to Winnie’s towel.
Wilbur jumped onto
Winnie’s beach umbrella.
‘Meeow,’ he cried.
Harry , the dirty dog
Harry was a white dog with black spots who liked everything…… except, getting a bath.
So one day when he heard the water running in the tub.
He took the scrubbing brush, and buried it in the back yard.
Then he ran away from home.
He played where they fixing the street…… and got very dirty.
He played at the railroad…… and got even dirtier.
He played tag with other dogs …… and became dirtier still.
He slid down a coal chute…… and got the dirtiest of all.
In fact, he changed from a white dog with blank spots to a black dog with white spots.
Although there were many other things to do…… Harry began to wonder if his family thought that he had really run away.
He felt tired and hungry too…… So without stopping on the way he ran back home.
When Harry got to his house, he crawled through the fence and sat looking at the back door.
One of the family looked out and said “There’s a strange dog in the back yard.” “By the way, has anyone seen Harry?”
When Harry heard this, he tried very hard to show them he was Harry.
He start to do all his old, clever tricks.
He flip-flopped…… and he flop-flipped. He rolled over and played dead.
He danced…… and he sang.
He did these tricks over and over again, but everyone shook his head and said “ Oh, no, it couldn’t be Harry.”
Harry gave up and walked slowly toward the gate.
But suddenly, he stopped.
He ran to the corner of the garden and started to dig furiously.
Soon, he jumped away from the hole, barking short, happy barks.
He’d found the scrubbing brush!
And carrying it in his mouth, he ran into the house.
Up the stairs he dashed with the family following close behind.
He jumped into the bathtub and sat up begging with the scrubbing brush in his mouth, a trick he certainly had never done before.
“This little doggie wants a bath!” cried the little girl, and her father said “Why don’t you and your brother give him one?”
Harry’s bath was the soapiest one he’d ever had.
It worked like magic.
As soon as the children started to scrub, they began shouting, “Mummy! Daddy! Look, look! Come quick!” “It’s Harry!” “It’s Harry!” “It’s Harry!” they cried.
Harry wagged his tail and was very, very happy.
His family combed and brushed him lovingly and he became once again a white dog with black spots.
It was wonderful to be home.
After dinner, Harry fell asleep in his favorite place, happily dreaming of how much fun it had been getting dirty.
He slept so soundly, he didn’t even feel the scrubbing brush he’d hidden under his pillow.
Five Minutes’ Peace by Jill Murphy
The children were having breakfast.
This was not a pleasant sight.
Mrs. Large took a tray from the cupboard.
She set it with a teapot, a milk jug, her
favorite cup and saucer, a plate of
marmalade toast and a leftover cake
from yesterday. She stuffed the morning
paper into her pocket and sneaked off
toward the door.
“Where are you going with tray, Mom?” asked Laura.
“To the bathroom,” said Mrs. Large.
“Why?” asked the other two children.
“Because I want five minutes’ peace from all of you,” said Mrs. Large.
“That’s why.”
“Can we come?” asked Lester as they trailed up the stairs behind her.
“No,” said Mrs. Large, “you can’t.”
“What shall we do then?” asked Laura.
“You can play,” said Mrs. Large. “Downstairs. By yourselves. And keep an eye on the baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” muttered the little one.
Mrs. Large ran a deep, hot bath.
She emptied half a bottle of bubble bath into the water, plunked on her shower cap and got in.
She poured herself a cup of tea and lay back with her eyes closed.
It was heaven.
“Can I play you my tune?” asked Lester.
Mrs. Large opened one eye. “Must you?” she asked.
“I’ve been practicing,” said Lester, “You told me to. Can I? Please, just for one minute.”
“Go on then,” sighed Mrs. Large.
So Lester played. He played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” three and a half times.
In came Laura. “Can I read you a page from my reading book?” she asked.
“No, Laura,” said Mrs. Large. “Go on, all of you, off downstairs.”
“You let Lester play his tune,” said Laura.
“I heard. You like him better than me. It’s not fair.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Laura,” said Mrs. Large
“Go on then. Just one page.”
So Laura read. She read four and a half pages of “Little Red Riding Hood.”
In came the little one with a trunkful of toys.
“For you!” he beamed, flinging them all into the bath water.
“Thank you, dear,” said Mrs. Large weakly.
“Can I see the cartoons in the paper?” asked Laura.
“Can I have the cake?” asked Lester.
“Can I get in with you?” asked the little one.
Mrs. Large groaned.
In the end they all got in. The little one was in such a hurry that he forget to take off his pajamas.
Mrs. Large got out. She dried herself, put on her bathrobe and headed for the door.
“Where are you going now, Mom?” asked Laura.
“To the kitchen,” said Mrs. Large.
“Why?” asked Lester.
“Because I want five minutes’ peace from all of you,” said Mrs. Large. “That’s why.”
And off she went downstairs, where she had three minutes and forty-five seconds of peace before they all came to join her.
Sophie’s Masterpiece A Spider’s Tale
Sophie’s Masterpiece A Spider’s Tale
Sophie was no ordinary house spider
Sophie was an artist.
She spun webs more wondrous than anyone had ever seen. Her playmates called her incredible. Her mama was proud.
Someday, they said, she’s going to spin a masterpiece.
When Sophie arrived at that age when a young spider must strike out on her own, she moved to Beekman’s Boardinghouse.
The first thing she did was look around. She saw dull green walls, faded rugs, and old window shades. The place cried out for her talents.
Sophie set to work.. Her first project was to weave a web of curtains for Beekman’s front parlor.
Day after day she whizzed along, blending a golden thread of sun into her silk.
Then one day the landlady noticed her and screamed, “I’ll have no spider in my parlor!” She swatted at Sophie with a dust rag.
Sophie knew when she wasn’t wanted. She scampered across the wall and up the stairs into the tugboat captain’s closet.
When she finally settled down, she looked around and saw nothing but gray. Gray shirts. Gray pants. Gray sweaters.
The captain needs a new suit, Sophie decided. Something bright. Blue. Like sky. She began to spin patiently. A sleeve. A collar.
One day the tugboat captain caught Sophie at work.
He screeched, “A spider!”
Then he climbed onto the windowsill and out to the roof.
Sophie did not want anyone falling off the roof on her account. She scuttled out of the closet, down the hall, and into the cook’s bedroom slipper.
Cook’s bedroom slippers were patched and dirty.
I’ll spin Cook a new pair, Sophie thought. After I rest a bit.
No sooner had Sophie snuggled into the toe, than she was being flung to the floor.
Was it an earthquake?
No.
It was Cook who had shaken Sophie out. “Yuck! “ scowled Cook.
“Look at that ugly, disgusting spider.”
Sophie’s feelings were hurt. With great dignity she journeyed across the rug and under Cook’s door. She made the long, long climb up the steep stairs to the third floor where a young woman lived. Wearily Sophie slipped into the young woman’s knitting basket and fell asleep.
By this time, many spider years had passed. Sophie was older. She only had energy to spin a few small things for herself…a tiny rose-patterned case for her pillow, eight colorful socks to keep her legs warm.
But mostly she slept.
Then one day the young woman discovered Sophie.
Oh, no, thought Sophie, close to tears. She knew she did not have the strength for any more journeys.
But the young woman did not swat at Sophie with a dust rag.
She did not climb on the roof.
She did not say that Sophie was ugly.
She simply smiled.
She simply smiled.
And without disturbing Sophie in the least, the young woman picked up her needle and yarn.
Sophie watched as the young woman knitted, day after day.
“Booties!” cried Sophie.
The young woman was going to have a baby.
After the booties were finished, the young woman knitted a baby sweater.
Then the yarn was gone.
The young woman did not have enough money to buy yarn for a baby blanket.
“Never mind.” the landlady told her. “There’s an old brown quilt in the hall closet. Your baby can use that.”
Sophie had seen that quilt. It was scratchy and drab. Not fit for a baby.
Sophie knew the answer. She would have to spin a blanket herself.
In her younger days, this would not have been a problem. But Sophie had grown frail and weak. The baby was due any day. Could Sophie complete the blanket in time?
She climbed out of the yarn basket.
She traveled to the wide windowsill.
Strands of moonlight fell into the room. Excellent! she thought. I’ll weave those strands into the baby’s blanket. Some starlight, too.
Sophie began. As she spun, new ideas came to her. She worked them into the blanket … snippets of fragrant pine … wisps of night … old lullabies … playful snowflakes…
Sophie spun without blinking.
Or eating.
Or sleeping.
She was never more exhausted. Or determined.
On and on she spun.
She was down to the farthest corner of the blanket when she heard the cry of the young woman’s newborn baby. And there, on that farthest corner, is where Sophie wove into the blanket her very own heart.
That night as the young woman was about to cover her infant with the landlady’s quilt, something on the windowsill caught her eye.
It was a blanket, so soft, so beautiful as to be fit for a prince.
The young woman knew this was no ordinary blanket.
She placed it with love and wonderment around her sleeping baby.
And went to sleep herself with her hand upon the little spider’s last spinning.
Sophie’s masterpiece.