"
"Is it very far from hence?" asked the wolf.
"Oh yes, it is just above the mill which you may see up there--the
first house you come to in the village."
"Well," said the wolf, "I will go there also, to inquire after your
excellent grandmother; I will go one way, and you the other, and we
will see who can be there first."
So he ran as fast as ever he could, taking the shortest road, but the
little maiden took the longest; for she stopped to pluck roses in the
wood, to chase butterflies, and gather nosegays of the prettiest
flowers she could find--she was such a happy and innocent little soul.
The wolf was not long in reaching the grand-mother's door. He knocked,
Toc--toc, and the grandmother said, "Who is there?"
"It is your child, Little Red-Riding-Hood," replied the wicked beast,
imitating the girl's voice; "I bring you a cake and a pot of butter,
which my mother has sent you."
The grandmother, who was ill in her bed, said, "Very well, my dear,
pull the string and the latch will open." The wolf pulled the
string--the door flew open; he leaped in, fell upon the poor old
woman, and ate her up in less than no time, tough as she was, for he
had not tasted anything for more than three days. Then he carefully
shut the door, and laying himself down snugly in the bed, waited for
Little Red-Riding-Hood, who was not long before she came and knocked,
Toc--toc, at the door.
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