ONCE upon a time there was an old pig called Aunt Pettitoes. She had
eight of a family: four little girl pigs, called Cross-patch, Suck-suck,
Yock-yock and Spot;
and four little boy pigs, called Alexander, Pigling Bland, Chin-chin and
Stumpy. Stumpy had had an accident to his tail.
The eight little pigs had very fine appetites. "Yus, yus, yus! they eat
and indeed they DO eat!" said Aunt Pettitoes, looking at her family with
pride. Suddenly there were fearful squeals; Alexander had squeezed
inside the hoops of the pig trough and stuck.
Aunt Pettitoes and I dragged him out by the hind legs.
Chin-chin was already in disgrace; it was washing day, and he had eaten
a piece of soap. And presently in a basket of clean clothes, we found
another dirty little pig. "Tchut, tut, tut! whichever is this?" grunted
Aunt Pettitoes.
Now all the pig family are pink, or pink with black spots, but this pig
child was smutty black all over; when it had been popped into a tub, it
proved to be Yock-yock.
I went into the garden; there I found Cross-patch and Suck-suck rooting
up carrots. I whipped them myself and led them out by the ears.
Cross-patch tried to bite me.
"Aunt Pettitoes, Aunt Pettitoes! you are a worthy person, but your
family is not well brought up. Every one of them has been in mischief
except Spot and Pigling Bland."
"Yus, yus!" sighed Aunt Pettitoes. "And they drink bucketfuls of milk; I
shall have to get another cow! Good little Spot shall stay at home to do
the housework; but the others must go. Four little boy pigs and four
little girl pigs are too many altogether." "Yus, yus, yus," said Aunt
Pettitoes, "there will be more to eat without them."
So Chin-chin and Suck-suck went away in a wheel-barrow, and Stumpy,
Yock-yock and Cross-patch rode away in a cart.
And the other two little boy pigs, Pigling Bland and Alexander, went to
market. We brushed their coats, we curled their tails and washed their
little faces, and wished them good-bye in the yard.
Aunt Pettitoes wiped her eyes with a large pocket handkerchief, then she
wiped Pigling Bland's nose and shed tears; then she wiped Alexander's
nose and shed tears; then she passed the handkerchief to Spot. Aunt
Pettitoes sighed and grunted, and addressed those little pigs as
follows:
"Now Pigling Bland, son Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Take your
brother Alexander by the hand. Mind your Sunday clothes, and remember to
blow your nose"--
(Aunt Pettitoes passed round the handkerchief again)--"beware of traps,
hen roosts, bacon and eggs; always walk upon your hind legs." Pigling
Bland, who was a sedate little pig, looked solemnly at his mother, a
tear trickled down his cheek.
Aunt Pettitoes turned to the other--"Now son Alexander take the
hand"--"Wee, wee, wee!" giggled Alexander--"take the hand of your
brother Pigling Bland, you must go to market. Mind--" "Wee, wee, wee!"
interrupted Alexander again. "You put me out," said Aunt Pettitoes.
"Observe sign-posts and milestones; do not gobble herring bones--" "And
remember," said I impressively, "if you once cross the county boundary
you cannot come back.
Alexander, you are not attending. Here are two licences permitting two
pigs to go to market in Lancashire. Attend, Alexander. I have had no end
of trouble in getting these papers from the policeman."
Pigling Bland listened gravely; Alexander was hopelessly volatile.