One time a little old woman was sweeping her room, and she found in the
corner a bright silver shilling. “There!” said the old woman, “Now I
can buy that little pig I have been wanting for such a long time.”
She finished her sweeping in a hurry and put on her bonnet and her
shawl and started off to market to buy her pig, and she carried a tin
pail with her so she could gather blackberries along the way.
The bushes were fairly loaded down with berries, so it did not take her
long to fill her pail, and after that she got to market in no time.
At first she could not find just the pig she wanted. Some were too
little and some were too big; some were too fat and some were too thin.
But at last she found just exactly the right pig; it was round and
pink and it had one black ear, and the curliest tail there was in the
market. She paid just exactly a shilling for it, and then she tied a
rope around its hind leg and started home with it, driving it before
her, and carrying the pail of blackberries on her arm.
At first all went well. The little pig trotted quietly along, and the
sun shone, and the birds sang, and the little white clouds floated
across the sky. But presently they came to a stile, and the pig did not
want to go over it. Now, there was no way to go round, and no way to
get home except over this stile.
“Go on, piggy,” said the old woman, shaking the rope. But piggy
wouldn’t go on. The old woman tried to drive him, and he wouldn’t go,
and then she tried to lead him, and then she coaxed him and talked to
him, but he just _wouldn’t_ go over the stile.
At last the old woman quite lost patience with him. She saw a dog
trotting along the road, and she called to him. “Here! here, good dog;
come and bite piggy, for I can’t make pig go over the stile, and at
this rate I won’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe
blackberries.”
The dog stopped and looked at her and looked at the pig, but he would
not bite it.
[Illustration: THE PIG WOULD NOT GO OVER THE STILE]
Close by a stick lay in the road, and the woman called to it (and she
was quite cross by this time). “Stick, stick, beat dog; dog won’t bite
pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and at this rate I shan’t get home
till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
But the stick wouldn’t. It lay there quietly in the road just as though
she hadn’t spoken to it.
Over in the field a fire was burning, and the old woman called to it,
“Fire, fire, burn stick; stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig,
pig won’t go over the stile, and at this rate I won’t get home till
midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
But the fire wouldn’t.
Then the old woman called to a brook near by, “Water, water, quench
fire; fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig,
pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home till midnight with
my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
But the brook wouldn’t.
She saw an ox over in the field. “Ox, ox,” she cried, “drink water;
water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog,
dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home
till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
But the ox wouldn’t.
She saw a butcher riding along the road, and she called to him
“Butcher, butcher, kill ox; ox won’t drink water, water won’t quench
fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig,
pig won’t go over the stile, and I won’t get home till midnight with my
pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
But the butcher wouldn’t.
There was a piece of rope twisted about the fence. “Rope, rope,” she
cried, “hang butcher; butcher won’t kill ox, ox won’t drink water,
water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog,
dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home
till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
But the rope wouldn’t.
Then she called to a rat that lived in a hole under the stile, “Rat,
rat, gnaw rope; rope won’t hang butcher, butcher won’t kill ox, ox
won’t drink water, water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick,
stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the
stile, and I shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe
blackberries.”
But the rat wouldn’t.
A cat was sitting on a gate-post. “Puss, puss, catch rat,” called the
old woman. “Rat won’t gnaw rope, rope won’t hang butcher, butcher
won’t kill ox, ox won’t drink water, water won’t quench fire, fire
won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, and I
shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
“No,” answered puss, “I am very comfortable sitting here. Why should I
disturb myself just to please you. But if you will get the red cow to
give you a saucerful of milk for me then I will catch the rat.”
So the little old woman tied the pig to the stile, and then she climbed
over the fence into the field where the red cow was standing.
“Please, good cow, give me a saucerful of milk for puss,” she said, “so
that puss will catch the rat that won’t gnaw the rope that won’t hang
the butcher who won’t kill the ox that won’t drink the water that won’t
quench the fire that won’t burn the stick that won’t beat the dog that
won’t bite the pig that won’t go over the stile so that I can get home
before midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”
Said the cow, “If you will go over yonder to where the haymakers are
working and fetch me a wisp of hay to eat, then I will give you the
milk.”
So the little old woman went over to the haymakers and said, “Please,
good kind haymakers, give me a wisp of hay to give to the cow so that
she may give me some milk to give to the cat.”
The haymakers were very hot and thirsty and they said, “Very well; if
you will go down to the stream and fetch us a pailful of water we will
give you the hay.”
So the little old woman emptied out her blackberries on the ground very
carefully and then she hurried down to the stream and brought back to
the haymakers a pailful of fresh cool water.
The haymakers drank deep of it and then they gave the little old woman
all the hay she wanted. She put the blackberries back in the pail and
hurried back to the cow with the hay.
The cow gladly gave her a saucerful of milk in return for the hay.
The old woman took the milk to the cat, and while puss was drinking it
the old woman untied the rope that fastened the pig to the stile.
Puss finished the milk and licked up the last drop of it, and then she
bounded down beside the stile and began to catch the rat.
The rat squeaked with terror and began to gnaw the rope.
The rope began to hang the butcher, the butcher began to kill the ox,
the ox began to drink the water, the water began to quench the fire,
the fire began to burn the stick, the stick began to beat the dog, the
dog began to bite the pig, and the pig squealed at the top of its lungs
and scrambled over the stile and ran for home so fast that the little
old woman could hardly keep up with it.
They got home in less than no time; it wasn’t even midday, and the
little old woman had her blackberries for dinner, and what was left
over she gave to the pig.